#when you back an animal into a corner you expect it to strike back let alone when you have a loaded gun to its head

[watermelonflavoredwrath]

Do not let them take you.

Do not let them steal your life.

They want us dead.

They want us all dead.

They want to crush us under their boots so freshly licked by cowards.

So live.

Live to spite them.

Live to be another voice screaming the truth so we might be heard

Live and protect each other.

Live.

Please live.

Do not let them steal your life.

Do not let them take you.

[my-love-is-sunlight]

The sparrow and the hunter

Zoro x fem!reader

Warnings: pure fluff, mentions of daggers, zoro making fun of gods as he does, fem reader can transform into an animal idk thought you should know

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: In which Zoro falls hard for you and he struggles with it

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

When you first joined the crew, Zoro was very skeptical about what you actually would bring to the table, since your abilities were… unique to say the least, but you had helped them giving useful information and advise when in a very tight situation, and who was he to doubt his captains decisions.

“A BIRD?” Luffy exclaimed almost jumping out of his seat. Yes, you could turn into a bird

“Yep, that’s why I am a good informant! People don’t suspect of a tiny sparrow flying around” you explained followed by a wink

“But… how?!” The navigator asked still confused

You turned around tugging your shirt slightly down and removing your hair form your back to reveal a tattoo “This is an ancient mark that was bestowed upon me by my people, the mark of a god called Quetzalcoatl, also known as the feathered snake. It carries the power that allows me to transform”

This only made Zoro grow even more doubtful about you, a god? It sounded like a fairytale to him. But as it turned out, you were also a fearless fighter, extremely skillful with daggers and combined with your special ability it made you fierce, which earned you his respect quickly after having fought beside him and the strawhats.

As you slowly went from the quiet reserved new crewmate to show your real colors of a confident caring bright and easygoing individual, the swordsman didn’t mind sharing with you the ‘training zone’ which was just a section of the going merry Nami had assigned to such activities to prevent accidents. Most if not all of the time you would train separately since you only did cardio and battle training and Zoro was more of a heavy lifting kind of guy. Both seemed to enjoy the silence of each other’s company and only exchanging few hellos and goodbyes.

But of course that slowly began to change when Zoro became curious on your fighting tactics

“Where did you get that dagger?” He asked from the other side of the ‘gym’ after staring at you training from a while, you turned to him a little taken aback, he wasn’t the one to talk let alone start a conversation

“I made it myself when I was 12” you answered as you slowly walked to where the stoic swordsman was standing.

Zoro had noticed how this dagger was different from the others you kept on your belt, not only was the shape and overall hold and design different, you kept it in a cover around your thigh at all times, so it peeked his interest

You presented the dagger, making slow steady movements that made it shine in the afternoon sun, it indeed looked more homemade, and the sharp edge was of a black shiny material he had never seen before.

“My father was a hunter, he showed me how to build this type of daggers to protect myself since we lived in the mountains… and for artistic purposes” Zoro’s eyes examined every detail of the weapon, and in further examination he noticed how indeed everything about it was really you, your essence was plastered all over it

“Interesting” he said still fixated on the dagger “You can hold it”

Zoro looked at you now closer and speaking almost in a whisper, you handed him your beloved weapon and he took it slowly. It was lighter than he expected it to be, he made an aggressive strong move as if he was cutting something and you giggled which made him embarrassed and a little insecure

“What?” He blurted out in defense

“You don’t use it like that, it’s meant for self defense or close targets. You have to move fast and steady” you took his hand in yours and demonstrated how to attack with it cornering your own throat between the dagger

“Always strike with purpose”

The swordsman felt his heart rate accelerate and a pink blush creeping from his neck, his gaze fixated in yours and his mind racing. You offered a sweet smile before removing yourself from the hold, Zoro returned the dagger to you shyly “Nice uhm… technique… and beautiful dagger” he immediately turned around to resume his workout, still flushed and with nervous hands.

The green haired pirate felt his head spinning not believing how you, a freshly arrived new strawhat, had not only allowed him to hold something you treasured and valued so much, but also had pointed it to your neck with his hands while being a man that doubled you in size and strength. His head couldn’t stop thinking about the intimacy of it all, it had left him breathless. You trusted him

But really it was just the beginning of the end for this poor man. Zoro had found himself trying to have more of you, like you had casted a spell, craving for your attention and essence.

He now looked for you when he entered any room, always wanting to be in your presence even while you just were enjoying your hobbies or any mundane task, he was eager to learn things about you and oh what a wonderful person you were to chat to, always keeping the conversation fun and interesting, listening attentively when it was his turn to talk, always sharing a piece of your soul.

You had seen through his stoic scary facade and saw what he really was. Everything that Zoro did was driven by love and the deep meaningful connections with the people around him, always remaining loyal and acting as the protector of the crew not because it’s his job but because he cares. He may not be as expressive as Sanji, but you were able to read him.

This scared Zoro immensely, not only cause he started to catch himself feeling annoyed whenever the stupid cook swooned your way or called you sweet names, or cause he couldn’t stop thinking about you even when training or trying to nap, or cause somehow you seemed to enjoy being around him too. No, it scared him because it made him feel like you had a hold on his heart and was afraid of being vulnerable. He felt weak

So when he finally came to the conclusion he was falling for you, and falling hard, instead of talking about his feelings, he opted for actively avoid you but of course you noticed right away. At first you gave him some time pretending you didn’t notice, he probably needed space from you feeling like you were smothering him, but eventually it had started not only to become ridiculous but to hurt you, because at the contrary of Zoros better judgment, you cared.

You excused yourself from dinner way early one evening, making a lame excuse so that you could finally catch Zoro alone on the crows nest on night watch and confront him, tired of his obnoxious behavior. Your stomach stirred in nervousness as you laid down on your hammock trying to distract yourself while crocheting, the door creaked open and you saw Nami menacingly standing in front of the door

“When are you gonna pull Zoro out of his misery?” your brows furrowed and a scoff escaped your lips

“What are you talking about? He’s the one avoiding me” The navigator rolled her eyes and sighed very loudly clearly annoyed

“He’s head over heels for you y/n! But he doesn’t know what to do just spare him”

“That’s not true” you sounded almost sad, Nami slowly came closer to you changing her approach

“You’re kidding right?, I swear he almost got up and ran after you when you stormed out, he’s smitten I had never seen him like this” you didn’t answer, thinking about his change in behavior and Namis thoughts, it seemed like it made sense

“I was planning on talking to him later anyways”

An exited squirm escaped Nami as she aggressively pushed your hammock back and forth shaking you “FINALLY! I swear you both were driving me insane”

As the sun disappeared behind the ocean and the moon greeted you shining through the cloudless sky, you awaited for everyone to retire to their bedrooms to peek your head through the door of the girls quarters, the ship was lulled by the waves and not a sound could be heard, quite rare for the Merry to be this quiet only confirming everyone was fast asleep.

You looked up to see the swordsman’s green hair peeking through the crows nest, only making you more nervous

“I can see you staring you know?” Zoro spoke loud enough so you could hear but not to wake anyone up, a shiver ran down your spine before you cleared your throat approaching the tall nest

“Can we talk? Please?” You didn’t wait for an answer before transforming and flying your way up, feeling shaky as you landed in the edge and morphing back

“I guess” Zoro whispered, arms crossed in front of his chest looking up at the stars twinkling in the night sky

The gentle breeze made your hair dance revealing your glistening eyes and your pinkish cheeks, the moonlight softened you making you look like a fallen angel that had answered to Zoros prayers. Of course he knew what were you doing here, it made his heart quiver in anticipation both of not having a clue of how you may approach the topic and to finally see you up close again after a long time of staring from afar

“Why are you avoiding me?” Oh so we are going straight to it “I gave you space so you would figure things out, but it has gotten stupid what did I do wrong?”

Silence pierced your ears only hearing your heavy breaths both of how nervous you were and how quickly you had morphed to get up there with him, you had never been so blunt in your life but it was Zoro who we are talking about here there was no way around it

“I don’t know” after a while of you staring at him while his gaze shifted from you to literally anything else this was his response? You sighed defeated before getting up

“I won’t get in your way then” it hurt you deeply but what else could you do if you couldn’t reason with the hardheaded swordsman?. Before you could get on the ladder you felt a strong hand reach yours in a hurry

“Wait… stay” there was a shift in his tone, you had never heard Zoro speak like this, it was like soft plead for understanding. You hesitated but sat back down face to face while he kept his grip on your hand

“If you don’t tell me what you’re feeling I can’t understand Zoro” you also changed your tone to a softer one, making him feel secure, encouraging him to speak up.

There was no other way around it, even if he didn’t felt ready to say it out loud the more he did leaps around his feelings the worse it’ll get. Zoro squished your hand as he struggled to find the words

“I’m avoiding you because I can’t handle the way you make me feel” He couldn’t look at you even if he tried but if he did he would be met with a puzzled expression planted all over your face

“I am falling for you and I don’t know what to do”

Zoro looked intensely into your big orbs that shone as bright as the moonlight above both of you, the confusion of your face was washed away immediately, a loving smile now in its place. You giggled which made him back up in embarrassment you did that often

“You love me you big idiot! That’s what you do” you said before leaning in to lock your lips in his.

The pirates eyes widen in surprise but slowly welcomed your action, melting in your touch and positioning a hand in your back to keep you closer while both of your hands hanged from his neck. You tasted sweet like he imagined but way more addictive, he never wanted to part his lips from yours ever again, but breathing was necessary for both of you.

Your smile came back to your mouth as you separated, cupping both of his cheeks so he would keep looking at you

“I love you Zoro”

An unfamiliar warmth settled on his face, but a wonderful feeling captured his heart and then he knew, if he was to ever give his heart to anyone in the world it’ll be you, you’ll take care of it and love it unconditionally

“If I say it back you’ll kiss me again?” your laugh was heard again brightening the dark sea and the pirates soul

“Yes”

“I love you too y/n”

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

Omg I loved doing this oneeee, and ofc had to represent my culture adding an aztec god as reference ☝🏻 if you want a series or a follow up lmk, as always feel free to request and correct me, English is not mu first language

[zzoguri]

familiarity (it’s all sticky) ➵ lee seokmin

peter parker!lee seokmin x spiderman!reader

you’re not sure why you decide to show up at your ex’s place all wounded up from tonight’s battle.

genre/warnings ➵ exes (to sort of lovers?), angst, touch of fluff, afab reader (no gendered terms), hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), discussions of wounds and depictions of blood, lowercase intended, ghost-spider au (though please don’t expect it to be accurate!), reader is obviously spiderman while dokyeom is peter parker i mean HELLO?? i am right, dokyeom is a lil a slob here, reader’s hair is long enough to be tucked behind their ear, based everything on google when it comes to patching up wounds omg, kissing fingertips, mentions of non-sexual stripping and showering (let him take care of you)

word count ➵ 4k words

playlist ➵ nonviolent communication by metro boomin, james blake, a$ap rocky, & 21 savage // hummingbird by metro boomin & james blake

a/n ➵ my svt writing debut <3 i thought this fic would also work really well for my silly dk and i wanted caratblr to have a chance to read this lil baby of mine <3 here's the original work if you're interested! and ofc, thank you to my cat @wuahae for betareading the original :’) you know how much i love you! don't forget to reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! want to request? check out my guidelines! masterlist

new york city never falls silent. the bustle of every new yorker can be heard through their footsteps,  the wheels that glide against the train tracks along with the beeps of taxis sound throughout the city. the metropolis stays alive in every street, every alleyway, every corner. no matter what hour it may be, each pavement is wide awake.

but the lights seem hazy tonight; the luminescence pours out of every building, the led boards are only blurs of silhouettes and illegible words. normally, you would warn against going out if someone could barely make sense of what these signs say, but you never seem to follow your own advice.

as you swing through the city, web clinging onto every building, blood continues to seep through the white spandex that covers you from head to toe. your body feels heavy, the pain in your lower abdomen continuing to spike with every movement—every swing—you make.

you bite on your lip, holding back the whimpers. your eyes dart through every street sign you pass. with every swing, you realize you’re nowhere close to where you should be. instead… 

you don’t allow yourself to think it over. maybe the loss of blood has you moving out of impulse, but for now, you can only think of getting rid of the pain.

you swing around the corner before landing down at the familiar fire escape, paint-chipped and rusted just like you remember. a hiss leaves your mouth as your hand reaches out to the spot where the blood continues to seep through, holding it down to keep pressure on the wound.

you’re face-to-face with the window; the reflection of you all suited up in some persona is a sight you’re accustomed to—but not on the glass of his window. you’re not sure why you came back here, injured in an identity he only knew of through word of mouth.

but the throbbing in your abdomen doesn’t give you enough time to think more about it. pushing the window up, you throw one leg over the edge into the apartment. your eyes quickly scan through the familiar space—a room you once treated as yours.

pillows scattered and bedsheets wrinkled, the walls are littered with the same posters of anime he swears to be the best of all time (which you agreed with), along with his desk, littered with trinkets you haven’t seen since the day you left him—ones that he talked about to you back then with so much joy.

as you attempt to get your other leg over the edge of the window, you yelp at the sharp pain that strikes. “fuck,” you whimper, gasping out a breath. another groan rips out from your throat as you force your leg over, head resting on the frame with closed eyes, bracing yourself through the wave of pain that follows.

as pants continue to leave your mouth, your senses tingle as your ears catch the sound of footsteps on the other side of the room. you attempt to stand up only for another groan to leave your lips, and you realize it’s too late—the door creaks open, revealing the man you haven’t been face-to-face with since you said your farewell months ago.

dressed in an oversized white tee and a pair of black shorts, dokyeom stands with a bag of chips in his hand and disheveled hair, eyes wide and gaping. you can only assume he was fresh from bed.  

“s-spiderman?!” he looks around, noticing the mess that you’re being exposed to. before you can register it, he rushes in, dropping the bag of chips somewhere near the doorway, and tries to tidy his bed. “w-what are you doing here? i think you might’ve entered the wrong room,” he stutters as he attempts to fix his pillows and bedsheets (poorly, if you may say). 

somehow, the sight of dokyeom all frazzled makes you smile behind your mask. the idea of your—no, you mean, this guy all worried about you seeing how untidy he lives makes you chuckle.

but as you laugh, pain shoots through your lower abdomen once more. you cough out before hissing, pressing onto the wound. it takes everything in you to keep your body upright until you feel a pair of hands rest on your shoulders. you look up only to be met with his worried expression.

and you spot the way his eyes trail down to where your hand rests. you’re thankful that the mask could hide the heat that rises to your cheeks.

“oh god, you need that treated,” dokyeom’s eyes snap back up to you, and your breath hitches. even after all these months, he still holds stars in his eyes.

it’s been a while since you last saw him up close. the bags on his under eyes have turned a few shades darker, and you notice an eyelash that rests on his cheek. you don’t think about what you do next, your free hand reaching out to his face, and his breath hitches. once you pick it out, you flick the strand off of your fingers, and that’s when you realize the mistake you committed.

“s-sorry,” you choke out. although you try to keep your voice as low and gruntled as possible, he frowns. he bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicker between your masked face and the wound.

“i-i don’t know how to help. i can call for an ambulan—”

you grab onto his arm before he can leave. as you shake your head, he gulps. “i can’t really help you,” he says, but your grip doesn’t falter. with that, he lets out a sigh before kneeling in front of you. his hands find themselves on the ledge, his arms now caging your frail figure. “do you have someone in mind who can help you?”

dokyeom’s question is innocent. you’re sure the last thing he meant was to mock your situation—showing up in a “stranger’s” room unannounced—but it strikes a chord in you.

you haven’t spoken to him since you broke up a few months back. when you’re outside of your suit, you avoid him like the plague. in the hallways of campus, you take any possible route to not cross his. but when you’re covered in your second skin, you find yourself on top of buildings watching him from far away. with the distance, you allow yourself to learn about what he’s been up to since you two last spoke. 

so you don’t know why you sit in front of him all injured and dressed up in white, black, and pink spandex, because you haven’t spoken to him since that day. shame bubbles within you all while reality slowly slips from your fingertips. and the way your body gets heavier with every second that passes has him mumbling profanities.

his hands hold onto you as he makes you lean your weight on the frame of the window. “wait,” he says as he stands up and walks into his bathroom. before you know it, he comes out with a box.

dokyeom finds his spot back in front of you and he opens what he retrieved. as he looks through the supplies of bandages, alcohol, gauze, and more, he says as his eyes flicker up towards you, “i don’t know how much this will help but it’ll do for now.”

and you should be thankful that someone is willing to bandage you up after the rough night you’ve had, but it feels like a lie to have dokyeom be the one to do it, especially when you haven’t told him the truth.

so when he grabs onto the supplies he needs to treat your wound, your free hand reaches for the underside of your mask. his eyes follow where it rests, and he freezes in his tracks. your fingertips curl on the fabric as you take a deep breath.

“you don’t—”

you shake your head, cutting him off, and you close your eyes before pulling off the mask.

you’re afraid to look at the boy kneeling in front of you, for you can only imagine the annoyance—the disgust—that will paint his features. it’s not like you had a choice to show up at his fire escape this one night, but it was your choice to reveal who spiderman really is behind the mask.

a beat passes.

you’re not sure what to do at this moment. what are you supposed to do after a vigilante reveals who they are?

but when you open your eyes, dokyeom looks back at you with an emotion you can’t pinpoint. he averts his eyes, trailing down to your wound. “let me see it,” he whispers.

you gulp, an attempt to clear your throat and thoughts, before letting your hand move away from the puncture. your hand grips the hem of the top of your suit, peeling it upwards to reveal a bloody wound. from the sight, it looks like you were stabbed, but it’s only a deep cut.

he pulls out a piece of cloth, reaching out and pressing it to your wound. you yelp, eyes squeezing shut at the contact.  “i’m sorry, but we need to stop the bleeding a bit more.” it takes everything in you to open your eyes. you’re met with the sight of dokyeom whose face holds a thousand emotions—you can’t identify any of them.

“can you keep pressure on it?” you only nod before you remove your gloves, afraid to touch the wound with fabric covered in grime. you dump your mask and gloves on the space beside you before letting your hand reach to where the cloth is held against. your hand brushes against his for a split second—you retract your hand immediately at the contact with his skin.

at the sudden motion, the cloth against your stomach drops with nothing left to hold it. dokyeom curses in a panic, hand shooting out in an attempt to save it, but you react faster. snatching it mid-fall, you grasp it tightly, placing the cloth back onto your wound. his eyes dart between where your hand rests and your face, a twinge of worry cast on his features, but he doesn’t give you an opportunity to say anything as he stands up quickly and walks back to his bathroom.

you hear the water run for a moment. the noises of the street fill your ears. the lights from outside cascade the floor, hues of yellow and purple filling the room. and then thunder rumbles; it shakes the floorboards. the sounds of raindrops follow, and you feel your back start to get wet from the storm that has entered new york city.

you try to push yourself off the ledge, a groan ripping out of your throat once more. and you’re finally on your feet. but at any moment, it feels like you may collapse.

“wait, wait! what are you doing?” dokyeom exclaims as he rushes out of the bathroom. he quickly grabs hold of you in an attempt to keep you steady. “don’t stand up or that wound might get worse.”

“i-it’s just the rain. i don’t want to leave the window open.” as you turn your torso, another spike strikes where your wound is. the yelp that leaves your mouth has dokyeom grip onto your arm tighter.

“no, just sit. i’ll take care of it,” he says as he brings you to his chair, his hand never leaves your arm. you let out a hiss until your bottom meets the cushion. as soon as your back rests on the chair, you close your eyes for a moment from the pain.

his hand leaves you. you hear the window shut; the car horns and barks from stray animals are now muffled.

when your eyes flutter open, dokyeom crouches in front of you with a wet towel in his hand. “i need to clean it.” you only nod before removing the cloth on your wound. he grabs it from you and places it on his lap.

as he raises the wet towel to your wound, you flinch at the contact. he quickly retracts it and asks, “does it hurt?”

“no, it’s just cold,” you mumble back. he only nods before attempting to clean the area around your wound. while he keeps his eyes on the puncture, your eyes remain on his face; hues of yellow cast upon him.

his skin glows under the city lights—did anyone know about the stars you once carved on it?

“is this why we broke up?” his eyes snap toward yours as he asks that question.

you cannot help but bite the inside of your cheek. “y-yeah,” you choke out.

he hums before his eyes go back down to your injury. “i’m guessing this is why you were distant then, right?”

you don’t bother to speak, letting the silence speak for itself.

he removes the wet towel; the white cloth is covered in patches of red. as he crumples it into a ball, you spot that his white shirt holds splotches of blood as well.

dokyeom stands up to drop the pieces of fabric on the table behind you. “your dad obviously doesn’t know,” he mutters to himself.

it’s a rhetorical question. of course, your father has no clue of your late-night rendezvous. you’re sure he could never look at you the same if he found out because to him, he would never understand what you do. he would see you only as a low-life criminal in the same way the nypd does. 

dokyeom then dabs a cotton ball soaked in betadine on your abdomen. you bite on your lip as a hiss leaves your mouth. “fuck,” you curse, and he only continues to clean up your wound.

silence takes over you two. as he bandages you up, you allow yourself to close your eyes. you were thankful to find rest in these small moments. but you don’t miss the warmth of his fingertips on your skin; they feel just like last time.

“why did you come here?” his question has your eyes snapping open, and you are met with a frown resting on his face.

you bite the inside of your cheek. “i-i don’t know.” it’s a lie—one you both know. you had every chance to change the route you were taking. instead, you chose to go to his place—even if it may be on the other side of where you live.

he lets out a sigh. it’s clear that he’s disappointed by your words, but all he says is “okay,” as he gets up. “you can stay here for the night.” he stands in front of you in a shirt covered in patches of blood—it’s proof that his heart still holds a spot for you.

despite the venom that was laced in your words the night you cut ties with him, he leaves you a space for you to fill. it’s another choice you can make, but one you’re not sure if you should take.

dokyeom walks to the desk behind you and flips the lamp on. you swivel the chair so that you’re face-to-face with his slouched figure. you would’ve scolded him, but you’re not in the place to do so—not after what you two had.

but a part of you wishes to chide those words—hey, keep slouching and your back will get worse—for old time’s sake. it takes everything in you to hold back from saying the reminder, but it takes nothing to let your hand grip the back of his shirt. his movements halt.

as you sit up, you let your face bury into the arch of his back. the scent of his laundry detergent (it’s still the same smell of lavender) fills your nose, and you let your hands trail around his torso until they find their home on his waist. even after all these months, your hands knew where to rest—your spidey senses knew who to go to.

you feel his hands rest on your arms, his thumb drawing circles on your forearm. you breathe at the same pace as him. whenever his shoulders move up, yours follow. and you allow yourself to cherish just this once the familiar warmth of dokyeom. you let your soul mesh with his once more.

with closed eyes, you whisper, “i still look for you.” his thumb stops moving, and a shaky breath leaves your mouth. “i’m here because all i know is you.”

it’s half of a lie, but still a lie nevertheless. you shake your head against his shirt. “no,” you rescind. “i know i shouldn’t be here, and i had every chance to go back home, but,” you take a deep breath. “would you let me, just this once, be honest with you?”

your question hangs in the air—it’s not for him but for you. all the choices you took led to this moment, from embracing the persona you were handed through a single spider bite all the way to removing the mask in front of him.

dokyeom spins to face you. he stands in front of you with the remnants of you covering him, his shirt coated in hues of red and your blood dried up on his hands. the light behind him causes a shadow to paint his face.

but when he kneels once more in front of you, you get a good look at his features. he still looks like the same boy you first met—the same one you fell in love with—but you wonder if he was still the one you knew?

that is until his hand reaches toward your face. you hold your breath as it finds its spot on your cheek. but as his thumb grazes your cheekbone, a trembling breath leaves you. you gulp everything down—your fears and anxieties—so that you can finally be honest with dokyeom.

“i wanted to tell you who i really am.” a flicker of confusion flashes through his eyes. “and i know i’m not doing it in the best state,” a chuckle leaves your mouth. “but with every day that passes, and every injury i need to endure, i didn’t know when i would be able to tell you what went wrong with us.” a beat passes. “what went wrong with me.”

he shakes his head. “nothing’s wrong with you. what are you talking about?” a frown takes over his face. “i mean, you’re spiderman, for god’s sake.” you weren’t able to hold back the giggle that slipped from your lips.

but it wouldn’t be fair to just accept his words as is, not after the damage you’ve caused.

you let a hand rest on his, the one that rests on your cheek, and you curl your fingers so that you hold it. “i’m sorry that this is me.” the whisper is loud enough to fill the silence of his room. “i’m sorry that i crashed here all injured and left you to deal with the mess,” your eyes flicker to his bed. “especially on a night when you were resting.”

as soon as your eyes go back to dokyeom, you notice that he’s biting the inside of his cheek. “why are you telling me this?” it’s an honest question, one he couldn’t figure out the answer to. “we haven’t seen each other since you broke up with me.”

and he has every right to be confused with your sudden appearance. after all the months spent avoiding him in the halls while still seeking him on top of buildings, dokyeom was left with no clue as to why you come to him first in such a dire situation. why is it that you chose to reveal such an intimate part of yourself months after you two have drifted?

“do i have to say it?” you ask.

and he looks back into your eyes before saying, “it’s the least you can do.”

so you grab onto his hand, moving it so that it rests in yours. the sight of his fingers and palms covered in splotches of you fills your heart with warmth. it’s proof of the time he spent to patch you up. no matter who you may be—spiderman or not—you will forever be at his mercy.

“we can’t be together. it will only be another cycle of pain.” for both of you. as your eyes land back on his face, you spot sorrow coating his features.

“but i still do.” it’s an unfinished thought on his end. despite the frown you show, all he does is flash you a bitter smile. “i always have and always will.”

and it clicks.

“n-no, dokyeom,” you shake your head. “you can’t.”

he brings your hand close to his lips, letting it linger for a moment. “but you do,” he whispers into your fingertips. “right?”

even after revealing who spiderman truly is behind the mask, you expect dokyeom to rethink everything he knows. the months spent away from you should be enough reason to reconsider how much he knows of you now. but even if you two were to spend years apart, he would still read you as well as he does now. 

“i can’t,” you choke out. “i can only offer so much, and you deserve so much more.”

he smiles at you—the same one you used to see every day, no matter what time of the day it may be—as his free hand reaches for your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“i couldn’t care any less.”

you shake your head. it’s clear he doesn’t understand the gravity of it all; to be with you means to remain in constant danger. “no, dokyeom. you don’t understand. i broke up with you because i’m batshit scared of what will happen to you.”

because it seems to always occur—anyone you come close to becomes another target for your enemies. it’s already hard enough to handle the responsibility of being a masked hero, but you don’t think you could handle a possibility where dokyeom’s death would be on your hands.

but all he does is shake his head and says, “i don’t care. i still love you.”

you haven’t heard him say that to you in months. such a simple phrase causes warmth to fill your limbs and heat to rise to your cheeks. he still has the same effect on you after so long.

there are consequences that this conversation bears. you should have stood up and left as soon as he patched you up. it should’ve been obvious that the longer you stayed, the more you would pour out sentiments that you tried to keep under wraps—under the mask—and it seemed that dokyeom knew how to undo them even better than he did then.

and hearing dokyeom say those words has you falling into a perpetual cycle of torment, one that makes every day intolerable for you can only watch him from afar. but aren’t you already living it the more you deny what’s in front of you two?

so you only nod, and bring his hand close so you can feel his fingertips on your lips. with closed eyes, you whisper, “okay.”

it’s a testament to everything—one to his offer to let you sleep in this very room you once treated as yours, one to his confession that tilted your world’s axis, one to the very situation you’re in—and you’re sure he knows it, too.

he smiles as soon as your eyes flutter open. “let’s go to sleep.”

you know that sleep meant to be wrapped in his arms all while he would leave kisses on your temple. you don’t remember the last time you got enough rest, but you remember that the last time you slept in dokyeom’s arms was the last one you were able to fall into slumber at ease.

so you nod, allowing him to help you out of the chair. and he helps you through it all—shedding the suit off of you, cleaning you of all the grime from tonight’s adventure, and getting dressed in fresh clothes—until you two find your place on his bed.

nothing is said for the rest of the night. for once, you drift into slumber without any secrets stashed away.

taglist ➵ @kflixnet @blankjournal

[rottingcorps3s]

"Mistaken Friendship" Part 4 - S.R.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader (they/them pronouns and no identifying features are used)

Simon is put off by how friendly the local barista is and hurts their feelings when he turns down their ‘friendship’ he refused to admit that they had.

Rating: 13+

Word Count: 1.1k ish

A/N: Last past is here :)) Hope you enjoy, kinda angsty, but in my opinion, I think this kind of ending fits better with Simon's character. Might consider doing a super short epilogue type thing, let me know if you'd be interested!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

It had been around a month later and Simon was finally able to return to his apartment. It was well into the late hours of the night when he had finally arrived, throwing his gear and belongings onto the living room floor before taking his place on the couch. His exhaustion was evident, ask any random stranger to take one look at him and they’d all tell you the same thing. Fuck, he needs a nap. In which he would agree with that statement, but knowing Simon he would not follow through. He avoided sleeping to the best of his ability, this was a known fact about him. The amount of people that asked the question, does Ghost sleep? And each time it was followed with a swift nope. He runs on pure adrenaline and coffee.

Coffee.

The last interaction at the café at once crossed his mind at the thought of coffee. It remained in his memory while he was out on the job, but he had quickly pushed it to the side. The last thing he needed to think about was how confused they looked that he had blatantly disregarded any past interactions they had. The fact that he had gone out of this way to purposely order a drink he would never dare to drink in any other circumstance. May God strike him down from the heavens for ordering a coffee with…cream; he shuttered at the thought. The look in their eyes reminded him somewhat of a wounded animal, cornered in by the hulking man and using their best puppy dog eyes to avoid confrontation. At first he was confused by their reaction; who would want to be associated with someone like Simon to begin with? Emotional baggage, night terrors and maybe the fact that he was quite literally a licensed murderer, but they didn’t know that. They had taken him at face value, trusting him and creating a one-sided friendship with him that he never had the intention of returning. They had greeted him with a warm smile every time, had memorized his name and his drink (given that it was basic as fuck), and would chat with him as he would sit in the corner in the large armchair, and they would just talk. About anything. And they never once expected him to share his life in return, which is exactly what he wanted.

A friendship. Simon wanted a friendship, and he had majorly fucked over his chance at having one because he refused to admit that anyone would want to be friends with him to begin with.

Fuck.

-

The bell ringing above the door caught their attention instantly. They had the perfect view of the front from where they stood behind the counter, slightly crouched over as they continued to stock the mini fridge. The person walking in, however, had yet to notice their presence as they were hidden almost perfectly from their sight. Their blood ran cold at the realization of who had walked into the store, in that moment they considered dropping down to the tiled floor and army crawling their way to the back room and turning the lights off and prayed that he would just maybe get the hint. But no, they refused to give him that satisfaction. They quickly popped up from their position, and came face to face with him as he approached the counter, just like he always had.

“Hello.” They said curtly, a half-smile appearing quickly and disappearing just as fast.

Simon nodded once in response. Typical.

“What’s the name?” They asked in retaliation, grabbing one of the paper cups next to them.

Simon froze at their question, taken aback by their bluntness. He had to admit, it did sting a little; being treated as if he never existed to them to begin with. Now I know how they feel, he thought. He still had yet to answer their question, only being able to stare blankly at them as they shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“I don’t have all day.” They said.

Ouch.

“Um,” now it was his turn to stutter, “Simon.” He finally answered.

“What do you want?” they asked again, half-heartedly writing his name on the cup and turning their attention back to him.; their gaze burning into his own and he quickly averted his eyes to the menu behind them to avoid making eye contact.

“Just, uh,” he hesitated, “americano. Black.” They nodded in response, saying nothing else as they turned away from him and quickly began making his drink. Simon sighed deeply to himself. The silence that surrounded them only made the tension grow. This was the moment where they would usually be chatting him up, just like any other day, telling him about different costumers that walked in, the ridiculous drinks that some people had ordered and how many days it had been since Simon last showed up; making snarky comments about how the time in between was getting shorter and shorter. In which Simon would simply nod in response. He was well aware of it, but his late-night visits really did a number to help him forget about his night terrors. They had finally turned back around, drink in hand as they sat down in front of him. Simon noticing the lack of heart over the ‘I’ in his name.

“4.50.” They said, which Simon obliged by handing the money over to them. They were quick to throw it in the cash drawer and slam it shut; eyes boring into his own.

“Have a good one.” They said before turning around and continuing the job they were doing before he had walked in. No cheery smile, no sweet sounding goodbye, no ‘see you in X amount of days’ comment made.

Nothing.

Simon was quick to leave without another word, not trusting himself to say anything as he struggled to come up with he correct words to say. The bell rang above the door once again, alerting them that he was in fact gone and they were able to relax. A deep sigh left their lungs as they finished the work they were doing and stood back up. Their eyes lingered by the front door for a moment, the door he had just walked out of; their heart aching at the thought of that being the last time they may encounter each other again. They hoped it wasn’t.

They diverted their gaze back to the front counter again, noticing something out of place that was not there before Simon had walked in. A piece of paper. A folded-up piece of paper. A letter. They were quick to snatch up the object and quickly unfolded it.

I’m sorry.

I hope we can be friends…again.

- Simon ♡

[duhragonball]

Yo! Son Goku and His Friends Return! (2008)

2008 marked the fortieth anniversary of the manga anthology Weekly Shonen Jump.  To commemorate the occasion, Toei produced two anime shorts, which would be presented during the Jump Super Anime Tour.  One of these was One Piece: Romance Dawn Story, and the other was Yo! Son Goku and His Friends Return.

With respect to One Piece, I think the Dragon Ball special was a much bigger deal, as this was the first new anime from the franchise since Dragon Ball GT signed off in 1997.  Today, it’s kind of easy to overlook, because we have four new movies, 131 episodes of Dragon Ball Super, and however many chapters of the DBS manga.  But in 2008, it was pretty much understood that Dragon Ball had ended and would not return.  So even a one-off special like this was pretty historic. 

In the fall of 2008, Shonen Jump put the special on their website, and I remember having to install a special browser to watch it.  I thought I had downloaded the episode as well, but this afternoon I went looking through my files and apparently I only got the browser.  I guess that might still work after all this time, except they took down the OAV in 2009. The only official release was in 2013, when it was included as a bonus feature of a limited edition of the Battle of Gods DVD.  So it’s on track to become another “lost movie”, like “Plan to Eradicate the Saiyans”. 

You can track down Return on YouTube, but I couldn’t find a very good upload of the video.  A lot of fans tried to dub it themselves, probably  because there was never a proper English localization.  The only version I found with English subtitles was a “remastered” version, and from what I can tell, they just slapped their shitty watermark in the corner and did a horizontal flip of the footage to avoid a copyright strike.   So when I started this liveblog, I assumed this OAV was already in my collection, but it turned out to be the hardest one to arrange. 

There was also a 2009 manga adaptation of this anime, so maybe that version is easier to find than this special, but I sure hope they just put all this stuff out there where people can buy it.  Anyway, let’s take a look at what we’ve got.

So, in case you’re not familiar with this OAV, this is the one with Tarble, Vegeta’s brother.  I’m pretty sure he hasn’t appeared anywhere else since, unless you count his inclusion in the roster of Raging Blast 2, and some other video games.  He was also mentioned during Battle of Gods and the recent Broly film, but mostly this was done just to remind the audience that they didn’t forget about him.  In Battle of Gods, Vegeta says that he has no idea how to find or contact Tarble, and I suspect this means that we may never see him again.  Then again, I never expected Dragon Ball to return before 2008, and here we are.

This OAV also set the stage for a lot of what was done with the characters in Super.  Goku’s got the same farmer’s outfit here that we see him wear in Super, and he mentions that Mr. Satan recently gave him some money, which is depiced in DBS Episode 1. 

Continuity-wise, this takes place two years after the defeat of Kid Buu.  As I recall, Battle of Gods was supposed to be set four years after the defeat of Kid Buu, to give you an idea. 

So during that two-year peacetime, Chi-Chi has gotten Goku to start a radish farm, while Mr. Satan has built a new hotel.  The grand opening will take place soon, but he wants to hold a private party there the day before, and invite everyone from the Buu Saga to celebrate their victory. 

This greatly embarrasses Videl, so she calls Gohan to tell him about it.  Mr. Satan got all the credit for defeating Buu, but that isn’t true at all.  So she thinks his ego has gotten out of control. 

Also, there’s this cute sequence in the background as Satan and Buu give their dog a bath.  First they shove him down the hall, then Buu carries him back the other way, with suds all over him. 

That night, Gohan tells the rest of the family that they’ve been invited.  Goku and Chi-Chi aren’t interested, but Gohan casually brings up how it’s all-you-can-eat, and suddenly Goku’s on board.  The weird thing is that Gohan seems extremely relieved about this, and even thinks “Now Videl won’t yell at me.”  I don’t understand where he would have gotten that idea.  Videl just seemed frustrated about her dad’s extravagance.  I never got the sense that she wanted or needed Goku to come to this party, or that she would have been upset with Gohan if he couldn’t convince his dad to attend. 

Anyway, I just really like this shot of the four of them sitting at the table.  We never got to see this sort of thing in DBZ, but now we can.  It’s nice.

The next day, Videl arrives to pick them up, and Roshi immediately gawks at Chi-Chi’s boobs, so she hits him in the face with a frying pan. 

They get to the hotel, and Goku greets Buu’s pet dog.  He’s called “Bay” in the subtitles, and the name “Bee” seems to be official, as it gets used throughout the dub, but the weird thing I discovered in 2019 was that the dog never gets named throughout the entire Japanese script for the anime.  So I’m not sure when the name was finally introduced.  Maybe it was in the manga, but if that’s the case, you’d think it would have been used in the anime as well.  Or maybe it was one of those things they put in the guidebooks or whatever.

I just always liked this interaction with the two of them, where Goku greets Bee like a fellow veteran of the Kid Buu Saga, even though Bee was just a frightened puppy on the Sacred World of the Kais.  But he fought as hard as the others.  He borked and borked and then Kid Buu finally dropped dead, so I call that a win.

So one really weird thing about this special is how Mr. Satan somehow got Kibitoshin and the Elder Supreme Kai to show up for this.  Also King Kai, Bubbles, and Gregory are in attendance, they’re all dead.  I’m pretty sure this is the first and only time we ever see King Kai in the mortal plane.  Maybe this was why Gohan thought it was so important to get Goku to come to this thing.  Goku’s the only one who could get in touch with some of these characters, so without his help, Mr. Satan’s party would have been a very small affair.

Then the press shows up, despite Mr. Satan’s best efforts to keep this private.  They just want to know the name of the hotel, and it soon gets revealed as “The Mr. Satan World-Saving Defeat of Majin Buu Super Gorgeous Hotel.”  Try saying that three times fast. 

Satan seems mortified to have the name revealed, like he’s ashamed of it or something, but they were going to reveal this tomorrow anyway, so I don’t understand his reaction.  Then the media seem really pleased with the name, and he embraces it.  I don’t understand this whole plotline.

So, first of all, no one in the general public should even remember the name “Majin Buu”.  That’s because Goku used the Dragon Balls to wipe their memories of Majin Buu, so that Fat Buu could live among them without causing a panic.  They remember the Buu crisis, and that a terrible monster killed them all, but they don’t remember what the monster’s name was, or that it looked exactly like the big pink dude Mr. Satan hangs out with all the time. 

So I get Videl’s embarrassment, because it resembles her feelings in DBZ Episode 289.  As she put it, everyone believes her father saved the world from something, but no one knows what it was.   Also, it was during the Buu Saga that she learned her dad never beat Cell either, so I think she’s still coping with the fact that her dad’s business empire is all based on lies. 

However, Dragon Team takes the whole thing in stride, because they’ve known the truth all along, and they never resented Satan about it before.  Now, they like the guy, because he really did help them out with Majin Buu.  And now that he knows the truth about them, he’s been extremely humble around them, albeit privately.  I mean, the fact that he’s throwing this party in their honor kind of sums it up, doesn’t it?  He’s opening a hotel that commemorates “his” victory over Buu, but the day before, he invites the gang over to celebrate the true heroes of that struggle. 

And it’s kind of an awkward balance for Mr. Satan, made even more awkward when the press unexpectedly show up and he has to play both roles at once, but I don’t get how the hotel is an example of Satan’s ego getting out of control. 

Also, why a hotel?  This sounds like a museum or a monument would make more sense, but maybe hotels have a different significance in Japanese culture?  It’s also kind of weird how this is like Mr. Satan’s project.  You’d think that someone else would build the hotel and he would simply get royalties for attaching his name and likeness to it. 

Anyway, just before the gang can start eating, a pair of Saiyan Attack Balls land on Earth, and everyone senses a powerful ki.  It’s someone new, and that someone heads straight for the party, and Vegeta recognizes him as Tarble, his younger brother. 

Why have we never heard of this guy before?  Because Tarble had the same origin story as Goku.  During the rule of the Vegeta dynasty, Saiyan babies were tested for battle potential, and those determined to be unfit were launched into space to defenseless planets, where they could grow up and conquer in relative safety.  And say what you will about King Vegeta III, but he was no hypocrite, as he followed that policy with his own son, sending Tarble to some other planet because his test scores weren’t up to snuff. 

And this always illustrated the nonsense behind the Saiyans’ attempts to breed better warriors.  The whole idea was to remove the weakest specimens from their own population, and devote the best training and resources to the strongest, so that they could produce even stronger generations in the future.   Except Goku had extremely low test scores, and yet he wound up becoming the Legendary Super Saiyan.  Meanwhile, Vegeta and Tarble are brothers, yet one of them tested well and the other one didn’t, which sort of exposes the notion of Saiyan power is hereditary.

Anyway, Tarble grew up on some remote world, and apparently he became its defender instead of conquering it.  Then some new threat appeared, and it was too much for him.  So he went looking for help, and a Namekian once told him that Vegeta went to Earth after Frieza’s downfall.  So he’s here to ask Vegeta to save his adopted world. 

Vegeta finds it unseemly for Tarble to ask others to handle his problems, but he’s in the mood for a fight, so he’s down to clown.  But several other guests at the party want to fight, and Goku points out that they can’t all just gang up on the enemy, so he proposes a lottery.   They all teleport back to his house, where they can pull radishes out of his farm.  The one with the longest radish gets to fight.

Goten seems to have the game won, but then Trunks’ radish turns out to be like 100 feet long, so he gets the nod.

At this point, Tarble’s companion wishes Trunks good luck, and Vegeta finally asks who that is.  Turns out, it’s Tarble’s wife, Gure. 

Roshi makes some dumb remark about Saiyans always choosing strange wives, so Chi-Chi and Bulma beat the shit out of him with cookware. 

So they go back to the hotel just in time to meet Tarble’s enemies, who have followed him here.  Vegeta recognizes them as Frieza’s men, Abo and Cado, who were once on par with the Ginyu Force.  Tarble says they were away during Frieza’s downfall, and since that time they have gone into business for themselves, and they’ve become as powerful as Frieza himself. 

So you have to assume that Tarble must be pretty strong himself by now, if these guys came to his planet and he managed to put up any sort of resistance, right?  I mean, he didn’t know about Super Saiyans, but if Abo and Cado are as strong as Frieza, then Tarble must be at least as strong as Vegeta was on Namek, right? 

Anyway, since there are two bad guys, Goku finagles Goten into this contest to even things up. 

Also, Oolong is dressed up like a sexy maid, and serving coffee and sandwiches to the spectators.  That seems like a long way to go for a bit, but Oolong’s a shapeshifter, so maybe he can just will himself to have different outfits on. 

Oh, I didn’t notice Puar’s doing the same bit.  So why wouldn’t they both use their shape shifting powers to look like actual maids?  I mean, if that’s what they’re going for, right?

The four combatants fight evenly at first, but we know Trunks and Goten aren’t even trying that hard because they’re still in base form.  This is just the beginning.  And see, this all makes sense, because none of the main cast is sweating Abo and Cado for a second.  Tarble is afraid of these guys, but everyone else knows they’re just jobbers, fit only for a little practice with the boys. 

Then Abo and Cado use some sort of multiform technique to turn the tables.  Goten and Trunks are stymied...

... until Gohan offers to coach them.   He tells Trunks which way to hit, and tells Gohan to use his ki senses to figure out which one of the multiforms is real.

Wait... I just figured that out.  It seemed strange to me that Gohan would give each one different advice, but maybe that’s the idea.  So it looks like Abo and Cado are doing the multiform technique just like Krillin and Piccolo did against Nappa back in the day.  However, that technique produces three copies of a fighter’s body.  There is no “real” one because they’re all real. 

However, the advice about closing your eyes and using ki senses sounds very reasonable for countering the Afterimage technique which produces illusions.  So what if Abo and Cado are actually using both tricks at the same time, switching back and forth to confuse their opponents?  Pretty tricky.  Well, not really, since Goku, Vegeta, Gohan, and Piccolo all seem to see through it very easily, but it’s tricky enough to confuse Goten and Trunks.

Then Abo and Cado combine into a single, purple alien.  This form is known as “Abocado” although Goten and Trunks are the only ones who call him that, so maybe they made it up on the spot.  I think we all know what’s coming next...

Fusion!  Wait, they fucked it up.  Well, they haven’t had to do this in a while.

There we go.  I think this OAV is the first indication that characters can de-fuse and re-fuse quickly like this.  In the Buu Saga, Gotenks didn’t know how to separate, other than just waiting for the thirty-minute time limit to expire.  But maybe Goku showed him how.  And maybe it’s possible for Goten and Trunks to re-fuse without the rest period.  Originally, there was a cooldown period for the Fusion Dance, but that seems to have gone out the window in later works, such as this one.

So Gotenks uses the Wolf Fang Fist on Abocado, then follows up with the Volleyball Fist, which was Tien’s signature move in the 22nd Budokai.  This is kind of special, because Tien’s not even in this OAV.  His voice actor, Hirotaka Suzoki, had died of lung cancer in 2006, and so Tien wasn’t included in this production, to honor his memory.  And so the Volleyball Fist is kind of the only reference to Tien we get in this thing. 

And then Gotenks turns Super Saiyan to finish with the Dynamite Rolling Thunder Punch, which is one from his own personal moveset.  See, he started as base Goten and Trunks, then they fused, then Super Saiyan.   The fight escalated as it went on, and the different forms followed that progression.  That alone makes this little side-story better than every episode of GT.

But Abocado doesn’t go down so easily, and he starts shooting his big finishing blast.  Gotenks blocks it, but it wrecks the hotel, and the other Z-Fighters have to bust out their own signature moves to protect the civilians.  Goku and Vegeta finally step in, but Goku distracts Vegeta and teleports ahead...

Where he delivers a Kamehameha and big punch to put Abocado down for the count.  Not sure why he’s blue here. 

When it’s over, Vegeta complains about Goku distracting him in order to steal the win.  Goku’s like “Yeah, that was kind of inconsiderate of me, Vegeta.  Remember that time you broke every bone in my body and beat up my son?”

So the battle’s over, but Mr. Satan’s new hotel is destroyed.  Videl tells him he should take this as a lesson in humility, which seems to sink in, until Goku suggests that he use the Dragon Balls to ask Shenron to restore the place.  Videl scolds him again and that seem to talk him out of it. 

Also, Launch has been here the whole time, but she never says or does anything.  Just stating that for the record.

So they go back to eating, because I guess the food wasn’t damaged in the battle.  Gure is shocked-- shocked I say-- to see Saiyans eating lots of food.  Does Tarble just never eat in front of her?  That seems kind of like a strange way to live. 

Maybe Gure is finally realizing that this was what happened to her prize racehorse, Marmalade Thunder.  She didn’t escape from the stable that night after all.  It was Tarble.   It was Tarble all along. 

“This is a good spread, Kakarot, but you know what would make it even better?”

“I dunno, a racehorse?”

“Hell yeah.”

Also Abo and Cado have turned good and are joining the party.  I guess they just love radishes so they’re gonna eat all of those. 

Then Goku eats Vegeta’s sushi, and he takes some of Goku’s pork in retaliation, so they both turn Super Saiyan and look like they’re about to throw down.  But that’ll have to wait for some other anniversary special, I guess.

This special is about “an evil menace that failed to register in public memory.”  As the narrator points out, Abo and Cado might have been a big honkin’ deal, if they had shown up years earlier.   But they didn’t, and so they turned out to be a one-shot affair. 

And that’s it.  I’ll close out by noting that the opening credits for this OAV feature all new animation with Goten and Trunks worked into the classic DBZ opening. 

And the end credits feature a new song, “Orange Hero”, which features scenes of various characters just chilling out.  I like this one of the Son Family with Satan and Videl. 

So that’s it.  The special wasn’t too big a deal in terms of its plot.  The whole point was to introduce a threat that would only be dangerous enough to justify a lot of fun callbacks. Still, it added some new lore to the franchise, and it set the tone for everything that came after. 

[agerefandom]

Caregiver Pennywise Headcanons

Under the ‘read more’ because they’re very long! Warnings for violence, blood drinking, body horror, insect horror, and a brief mention of the reader having suicidal ideation.

you are intriguing because you normally seem to be an adult: unsatisfying prey, without the proper circumstances

yet sometimes you smell like the ripe creativity and raw emotion of childhood, drawing Pennywise closer to taste all of that delicious potential

it bides its time, bending the world around you to become more hostile, creating the kind of desperation that makes the best food

it starts to understand your regression: your triggers and comforts, your fears and joys

the closer it gets, the more the world around you begins to show signs of its presence: your toys begin to bleed and shift and some of them hatch into new creatures that huddle in the soft torn fabric. The walls of your room behind to show spiderweb cracks that look like mouths out of the corner of your eye

eventually, it strikes. It waits until you’re deep in regression, and emerges in a form it can taste will frighten you

and you are frightened, wonderfully so, but there’s a bitter tinge of relief to the fear that makes Pennywise hesitate: it’s not a taste it relishes

so it draws back, leaving you with the lingering fear and none of the relief you’d expected, just the throbbing knowledge that there is something out there, something you will never be able to name

you are left with too many questions and not enough answers, and your brain won’t stop fixating on the creature that you saw

you dig into the events around you in Derry and eventually follow Pennywise’s trail down into the sewers

it can feel you in the sewers and it feels right. It feels like this is where you’re supposed to be.

So Pennywise visits you in clown-form, leads you back up to the daylight. This has been its most comfortable form through the years, the one that lets it sit cross-legged beside you and giggle at your discomfort at the way its feet turn the wrong way

it never hides what it is, and the world continues to rot around you: the people you loved are gone, your stuffed animals are all unrecognizable but still soft to the touch and quick to crawl into your arms

Pennywise becomes the only thing that you know, and when it eventually invites you down into the sewers, you say yes.

—

down in the sewers, Pennywise entertains you with old acts from his circus days and gifts that have drifted down from the storm drains

he feeds you warm bottles of blood, and you never hunger for anything more

Pennywise has old friends that like to visit: they smell like rot, and bones poke through their fingers, but they play with you and their laughter rings in your ears

you can curl up in Pennywise’s nest and feel the whole city pulsing with life above you, waiting to be harvested, needing to be cultivated

you are no longer what you were, but you never miss the past

after all, Pennywise is so warm when it wraps all its many limbs around you and holds you close and safe and immobile: how could you want to be anywhere else?

[mrsparkjimin18]

—What If… | SOPE

→ pairing: Project Director!Yoongi x Art Director!Hoseok 

→ genre/au: light angst, fluff, diner au 

→ rating: G 

→ wordcount: 2888 

⚠︎ chapter warnings: feelings of anxiousness (not necessarily anxiety, but more like the nervousness of a situation), mutual pining, long-time confusion, mention of another possible office romance

an: A special thanks to my beta readers @peachiilovesot7 @downbad4yoongi and Sara, I honestly wasn't sure if I would be able to make this story come to fruition, but thanks to you all here it is!!!

summary: Yoongi and Hoseok have been best friends since their early childhood. When life separates them, is it destiny that brings them back together? Have they always just been close friends or is this more than just a bromance? What if…

Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by @hisunshiine of @bangtanwritershq 

My Big 3 are: 

Scorpio Sun (Member): Sope

Scorpio Moon (How they met): Late Night Diner 

Gemini Rising (Trope): Mutual Pining

The diner was noisy as usual. He didn’t understand why they always chose this place, there were too many distractions here. The constant sound of dishes clattering onto the busy busboy’s cart, the tables of animated customers chatting too loudly over cheap meals, the smell of grease and dollar store disinfectant that permeated the heated air, and that one lone dusty bulb at the end of its life cycle flickering above the corner booth

They all tugged at his periphery, demanding his attention, tying up his mind, until…suddenly… all of the distractions vanished.

The sound of the chime and a rush of frozen Toronto air pulled Hoseok's attention towards the door to watch his best friend of fifteen years stepping across the threshold and into the fluorescent light of the all-night diner that held it. Hoseok found his friend effortlessly suave and handsome under the harsh critique of the fluorescents. Ethereal is what came to mind as he watched Yoongi shake fluffy snowflakes from his ashy blonde hair and wipe away their fading essence from the lapels of his expensive black wool coat.

“Woah! Hyung is sexy!” Jungkook, one of the young programmers on their team, remarked, instantly confirming the feeling of awe Hoseok was experiencing at the sight of his old friend.

“Look at him! He belongs on the cover of GQ," another programmer, Taehyung, teased.

To Hoseok's surprise, Yoongi smiled coyly, quickly striking a pose as his younger co-workers continued to whistle and shout out obnoxious cat calls.

Hoseok wasn’t used to Yoongi being so playful in a public setting, and he couldn’t help the amused smile that formed on his face as he watched his usually stoic friend walk an imaginary catwalk towards their table, the tail of his coat flowing out dramatically behind him as he twirled and strutted.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough, let’s not make a scene,” Their CEO, Namjoon, intervened in order to refocus his team's attention. He waited patiently for everyone to quiet down and settle into their seats. “Okay,” Namjoon began, seeing the expectant look in their eyes. “I’d like to start by saying great job to everyone! We’ve all worked hard the last few weeks. I know things were tough, and I know It felt as if everything would fall apart after our previous Art Director…. Uhm… abrupt departure,” he said with a careful grimace, knowing the topic was still sensitive. “...but thankfully, we were lucky that our Project Director, Yoongi, was able to refer his extremely talented friend during our darkest hour.” He turned towards Hoseok with his glass held out in respect. ”You’ve been a savior for our company, Hoseok. Without you, the successful completion of this project would have never happened. We sincerely thank you, and appreciate you, and look forward to many more successful ventures with you as part of this team.” He finished with a gentle squeeze of Hoseok's shoulder before returning his attention to the rest of the team and lifting his glass even higher. “Let’s congratulate Hoseok on his hard work!” He rallied their enthusiasm.

They all raised their glasses, clinking them together as they each reaffirmed Namjoons words of gratitude.

“Speech! Speech!” Jimin, the team's graphic designer, and the only member who worked directly beneath Hoseok, shouted out. Hoseok tried to decline, but the look of pride on Yoongi’s face, and the affirming head nod, were all the encouragement he needed to loosen his tongue.

Hoseok stood up confidently and addressed the whole table. “First, I want to thank the team for taking me in and truly valuing my artistic vision. I know it was hard to have someone new come in mid-project, with a new perspective and new ideas. But you allowed me to truly express myself as part of this team, and together we were able to create something amazing.”

“And profitable!” Seokjin, the Chief Financial Officer, interjected, drawing cheers and shouts from the amped-up crew and a stern look from Namjoon that quickly turned into an appreciatively flustered smile at his CFO’s brash but loveable personality. 

“And profitable,” Hoseok agreed with a raise of his glass and a wink towards Seokjin. “Second,” he continued, his attention turning solely to his friend. “I’d like to thank Yoongi. You’ve been my rock since we were kids, and I truly appreciate you for that. When we took different paths after college, I was worried it could end our friendship. But…” Suddenly, the depth of Yoongi’s gaze made the words feel heavy in his mouth. His confidence waned, and he stumbled for control of his thoughts, “...But I’m…Thankfully…well…I mean…I’m happy…”

“...that fate had other plans.” Yoongi finished for him, his eyes never leaving Hoseok’s, even as the table erupted in agreement.

“To Unmyeong!” The entire team cheered to fate as they again clinked glasses and gulped down their swirling mixtures of beer and soju.

“Yes, cheers to that!” Namjoon concluded, his voice commanding the attention be returned to him. “Next I’d like to…” he went on, picking up where he left off before Hoseok's speech. 

But Hoseok couldn’t hear a word Namjoon was saying. The only sound was the rush of his pounding heart in his ears. He stood frozen in place, still staring at Yoongi, who had already turned his attention back to their boss, wondering why everything felt so different.

It had been almost four years since they’d last seen each other. Four years of military service, failed relationships, career growths, family drama, and all the other ups and downs that life can throw out in that length of time. He had known things would be different when they met again, but this was more than just the passage of time, this change was palpable and alive, and this change had meaning and purpose. 

He’d felt it since his arrival a few weeks ago, that sense that a shift had occurred in their paradigm. A low-frequency buzz in the background of his thoughts seemed to be alerting him to the universe’s realignment. But he had been so busy, throwing himself headfirst into the project as soon as he arrived, that he’d inadvertently ignored it.

And now that it refused to be ignored, all Hoseok could do was stand frozen in place and wait. Wait for his heartbeat to return to a normal rhythm, wait for the word fate to cease its endless repetition through his mind, wait for a miracle to save him from this paralysis.

“...so cheers to a job well done.” Namjoons voice broke through, a faint echo from another dimension, as he tapped his glass to Hoseok’s. Then suddenly, Yoongi’s hand was grabbing his, pulling him back down into his seat, swiftly and effectively breaking the spell he’d been under. 

Everyone was still clinking glasses and high-fiving each other to whatever news Namjoon had just announced. Not wanting it to be obvious he hadn’t been paying attention, Hoseok quickly raised his hand from beneath the table to join in, tapping his glass across the table to Jimin’s, readying his other hand to give him a high five.

Yoongi reacts instinctively, noticing Jimin no longer paying attention, grabbing Hoseok’s wrist. Their eyes met at that moment, and they entranced one another, unable to look away. Yoongi reaches up with his free hand, gently bringing Hoseok’s hand to his in a soft high five. Their fingers intertwined, unaware if anyone else was paying attention, let alone bothered if they did. The soft pad of Yoongi's thumb stroked Hoseoks gently. He’d noticed the look of worry on his face and wanted to give him solace in knowing it’s okay.

Hoseok shook his head to break free of his current trance when he realized he was still gripping Yoongi’s hand from across the table. Without realizing it, Yoongi and Hoseoks hands connected in that surreal moment and stayed together a bit longer than everyone else. Satisfying electricity flowed from their fingertips, finally breaking the longing gaze,  and the skin contact quickly ceased leaving their cheeks tinted with a rosy blush.

“I have a question,” Seokjin turns toward Yoongi and Hoseok, “We’ve been working with Mr. Min for a little over a year, but we hadn’t heard about Mr. Jung until the need for an Art Director came about. So tell me, why did you keep your best friend a secret?”

“It’s not that I kept him a secret, he was serving the remainder of his military enlistment. We’ve always kept in contact. That's how I knew he was struggling to find employment, and at the same time, we were in need of a new Art Director. No secrets, I promise.”

“Actually, Yoongi had joined the military straight after university to get it out of the way, but I wanted to take some time to enjoy life after so many years of school. It just seems like the timing was always off for us, but now we’re back together as if we were never apart.”

“Back together?” Jimin childishly mocks Hoseok.

“So, did you only spend time with each other back home?” Jungkook asked out of curiosity, yet his tone was mildly mischievous.

“Well, we met in elementary school and we weren’t really friends at first. One day, some of the kids were messing with me and Yoongi showed up out of nowhere like my bodyguard, scared them off and we were attached at the hip after that.”

“We also have other friends,” Yoongi interjected. “But they’re more like acquaintances we met over the years.  You can say Hoseok and I had time to form a special bond..”

Yoongi glanced at Hoseok. He could sense a feeling of something he can’t quite put his finger on – maybe it’s embarrassment, anxiousness, he’s not exactly sure.

Surrounded by their coworkers, the loud and insignificant banter doesn’t phase Yoongi, his only focus was on Hoseok.

“I wanted to apologize for being so busy when you arrived…” Yoongi paused momentarily, leaning over the table a little more, “I haven’t even been to your apartment that I found for you since you moved here.”

“I hope you weren’t waiting for an invite,” Hoseok joked, “Since I wasn’t going to send one…I just assumed you were aware it isn’t necessary.”

“I’m probably free this weekend, that is, if you don’t have any plans?” Yoongi replied with a smirk, his eyebrows raised with curiosity.

Hoseok’s heart began to thump against his chest, sweat formed on his brow and upper lip, a feeling of queasy dizziness overtook him. 

Why does he make me feel this way? Hoseok thought. He squirmed in his seat, thinking he needed to adjust his posture to compose himself and rid his body of the uneasy feeling he was attempting to endure without giving Yoongi any hint of something being…off. However, he quickly realized he needed to remove himself from the playful gaze of the man he’s known nearly his whole life, whom he’s also known he’s had feelings beyond friendship for nearly as long.

“I don’t have any plans, but if you’ll excuse me, I have to use the restroom,” Hoseok jumped from his seat and quickly disappeared to the rear of the diner.

The server arrived to take their order, “We can wait for Hoseok to come–” Taehyung was immediately cut off by Yoongi.

“I’ll have the fried chicken with french fries and a Coca-Cola. He’ll have,” he pointed to the empty chair across from him, “A hamburger, grilled with salt and pepper, bun toasted with butter, no tomato and extra pickles. Instead of grilled onions, raw onions, condiments on the side, french fries without salt on a separate plate and a Sprite, light on the ice.”

Everyone else ordered and the three youngest team members couldn’t wait until the server left the table.

“Mr. Min,” Jimin teased. “You’re always taking extra care of Hoseok at work, checking on him, bringing him coffee.”

“You even knew precisely what to order him,” Jungkook joked. “It’s so cute.”

“Is there something you’d like to tell us about your friendship?” Taehyung questioned with a childish tone.

“That’s enough,” Namjoon intervened, “Their private lives are just that…private. What they had in the past or have currently is none of our business if it’s not work related.”

“He’s right, you three just don’t know when to stop sometimes,” Seokjin added in agreement.

The team members quickly hush as Hoseok arrived back at the table and shortly after the server returned with their food.

“Yoongi, thank you for ordering for me.”

“It’s not a problem, I know what you like.”

“I bet you know what he likes,” Jungkook mumbled, and Namjoon nudged him gently with his elbow.

“Don’t tease, they’re best friends,” Namjoon repeated.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok giggled. “Our friends back home teased us about how close we’ve always been…you guys want to see some old pics of us?”

“Hobi, don’t,” Yoongi pouted.

“H-Hobi?” Jimin giggled.

“Yoongi has called me that since we were teenagers. It started as ‘Hopi,’ a mixture of Hoseok and Hope, because I was always hopeful about the future and where we’d be years from those days. Hobi was how it sounded to others, so he stuck with that.”

“Aww, that’s cuuuute,” Jungkook quipped.

“Yeah, yeah. I’d rather you just show them the pictures,” Yoongi insisted.

Hoseok pulled out his phone, scrolling through it until he found the perfect one.

“This is when we were on our high school soccer team.”

“Hey! That’s the way you were looking at him tonight, Hobi!” Jungkook laughed.

“A look of endearment,” Taehyung added.

 “Oh, here’s another one during university after our first midterms.”

“Yoongi! You look so cool!” Jimin exclaimed.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough embarrassment for one night. Anyway, how about more congratulations on a job well done?” Yoongi raised his glass, his eyes fixed on Hoseok as he watched him clink in a cheer with the other team members. He fiddled with his food, hunger evaded him as he too became lost in thought. He wonders what he’s begun to feel, it’s new but not new, could it be platonic or something more? Yoongi noticed Hoseok had ketchup on the side of his mouth and he reached across the table with a napkin, only to drop it next to his plate.

“You’ve got something on the corner of your mouth, clean it up.” Yoongi mumbled casually. 

“Thank you,” Hoseok cleared his throat before picking up the napkin and wiping his mouth.

Namjoon ordered another round of drinks for the team before they finished their food. Jungkook showed pictures of his long-distance girlfriend, Vanessa, and Taehyung decided he needed to one up him by showing a picture of his girlfriend that actually lived in the same apartment complex. 

Jimin showed pictures of his niece whom he adored as if she was his own, which led to the usual tipsy version of him getting teary-eyed as he talked about her. 

Hoseok noticed that Namjoon and Seokjin didn’t share any pictures of their “significant others,” and he realized they never really talked about having one. 

Time passed quickly as they talked about future work projects, the three youngest argued over little things and Yoongi and Hoseok continued to indirectly dote on each other.

One by one, the team members said their goodbyes, until it was just the four of them left – Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Well, it’s getting late and I have to be at the office early to finalize some paperwork for the product launch. Have a good night.” Namjoon stood and put his jacket on, nodding to Yoongi and Hoseok before exiting the restaurant.

“Tonight’s team dinner was…nice,” Hoseok murmured nervously before finishing off his drink.

Seokjin sighed, crossing his arms, his thick eyebrows furrowed and a serious expression on his face, “Don’t pay attention to what those three say, they’re always joking, even when the situation doesn’t call for jokes.” He glanced at the diner exit, “I think it’s time for me to take my leave as well, but whatever you two have, whether it be just a long-time childhood friendship or something more, don’t let anyone or anything get in the way of your bond.”

He rose from his seat and quickly headed toward the door, leaving Yoongi and Hoseok staring at one another, waiting for the other to say something…anything.

Yoongi bit his lip, wondering if he should speak first…

Hoseok waited anxiously, thinking maybe he should express his feelings honestly…

He finally realized exactly what he wanted to say…

His lips began to part and he was ready to pour his heart out… 

Just as one of them was about to speak, the chime of the diner door caught their attention. They glanced toward the window to see Namjoon standing outside. Seokijn walked to him and they exchanged a few words. Namjoon played with Seokjin's collar before they disappeared from view hand in hand.

Yoongi and Hoseok looked across the table at one another, a puzzled expression as they tried to decipher what they saw. Hoseok reached his hand across the table, placing it over Yoongi’s. A surge of new emotions, unfamiliar and relatively intimidating, consumed his entire being. Naturally, he began to softly stroke the palm of Hoseok’s hand, accepting whatever may occur from that night forward. A simple thought crossed both of their minds…

What if…

[yourburdens]

" you know, i could've used a friend. pity that won't be you. " from karlach.

there  is  nothing  more  bloodthirsty  than  the  rapier  wielded  by  the  careful  hands  of  blade  of  frontiers  .  its  thin  blade  ,  just  as  the  magic  coursing  through  his  veins  ,  calls  to  him  with  a  voice  that  rings  louder  than  the  shriek  of  any  monster  that  falls  in  his  path  .  his  patron's  kiss  burns  memories  of  his  sworn  loyalty  to  a  pact  whose  details  he  fights  to  hold  on  to  ⸻  and  fight  he  does  .  fight  he  always  does  ,  but  they  escaped him  ;  mizora's  venomous  words  seep  through  his  fingers  and  yet  the  blade  worries  more  for  the  flowers  that  will  fall  to  the  touch  of  her  poison  than  his  own  hands  . he  agrees  to  her  game  .  when  she  places  the  rapier  in  his  grasp  ,  he  tightens  his  fingers  around  it  and  strikes  down  anything  that  she  sends  him  after.  the  heartless.  the  soulless.  the  burdens  of  this  world  .  he  trains his  expression  to  remain  bare  in  her  presence  ;  not  even  the  slightest  change  at  being  called  her  pet  .  reduced  to  an  allegory  of  an  animal  ⸻  if  only  his  father  could  see  him  now .  would  he  look  at  him  ?  just  the  idea  of  his  father  ,  eyes  low  ,  head  shaking  in  disapproval  with  a  low  grunt  being  the  extent  of  his  acknowledgment  of  his  disgraced  son  ,  it  is  enough  to  make  his  mouth  dry  . wyll  has  long  since  abandoned  the  idea  of  finding  a  purpose  on  his  own  .  instead  ,  he  lets  mizora  assign  what  she  sees  fit  .  he  takes  her  hand  and  gladly  laps  up  the  sugar  that  helps  the  medicine  trickle  down  his  throat  .  he  will  kill  what  she  orders  ,  under  the  guise  that  it  is  what  makes  him  the  hero  ,  the  blade  .  but  they  are  just  titles  ,  after  all  .  he  never  expects  them  to  carry  much  weight  .  his  purpose  changes  over  the  years  .  slay  monsters  ,  obey  his  patron  ,  karlach  .  karlach  .  .  .  she  has  been  his  purpose  for  so  long  that  it  felt  surreal  to  stand  in  front  of  her  now  ,  surrounded  by  quiet  forest  and  still  water  . leaves  crunching  under  his  boots  are  the  only  sound  he  makes  ,  his  words  locked  behind  clasped  lips  and  ground  teeth  .  the  flames  emitting  from  her  body  turn  the  air  around  them  thick  with  smoke.  "  karlach  !  "  he  calls  out  to  her  ,  using  what  feels  like  his  last  breath  .  taking  a  stance  and  holding  his  blade  forward  ,  he  snarls  ,  his  brows  twisted  .  he  expects  her  to  do  the  same  .  their  game  of  cat  and  mouse  has  transgressed  all  concepts  of  time  in  his  mind  and  now  that  they  are  face  to  face  ,  now  that  she  is  cornered  ,  he  expected  her  to  snap  back  like  a  desperate  dog  ,  as  if  they  were  two  animals  of  their  respective  master's  creation  . instead  ,  she  looks  to  him  ,  golden  eyes  wet  with  something  more  human  than  anything  he  could  pull  from  his  chest  .  his  mind  was  plagued  with  flashes  of  her  past  .  a  victim  of  war  ,  battle  axe  stained  with  the  blood  of  the  demons  sent  after  her  .  she  pleas  to  him  ⸻  to  him  ?  who  is  he  to  be  plead  to  ?  something  less  than  a  man  with  a  devil  yanking  his  collar  .  "  ready  your  blade  .  "  his  words  are  so  cold  that  they  shift  the  air  between  them  .  so  cold  that  he  can  see  the  horror  ⸻  the  sadness  ⸻  grace  her  features  briefly  before  she  closes  her  eyes  and  rolls  her  shoulders.

" you know , i could've used a friend . pity that won't be you . "  karlach speaks  with  a  hint  of  something  solemn  that  weighs  heavily  on  his  head  .  he's  killed  devils  like  her  a  hundred  times  over  .  devils  like  her  .  .  .  he  only  questions  it  for  a  second  .  the  weight  of  her  words  threaten  to  haunt  him  more  than  her  blood  on  his  hands  ,  it's  the  only  thing  he's  sure  of  . he  doesn't  back  down  ,  he  doesn't  let  what  he  is  sure  is  a  trick  cloud  his  judgment  .  he  widens  his  stance  ,  he  tightens  his  grip  around  his  sword  ,  he  breathes out  just  enough  to  loosen  the  tension  in  his  jaw  and  he  looks  at  her  ,  scarred  yet  battle  ready  .  he  quietly  wonders  if  friend  is  a  title  that  would've  been  worth  fighting  for  .  his  mind  twisted  with  the  idea  of  being  pet  to  the  one  on  the  throne  and  friend  to  the  other  in  the  pit  .  the  idea  makes  him  tense  again  and  he  gives  in  to  the  uncomfortable  feeling  that  washes  over  him  ;  to  the  tension  that  robs  the  forest  of  its  tranquility  . and  he  speaks  only  once  more. "  ready  your  blade  ,  karlach  .  "   

[bells-of-black-sunday]

☭ @ Robin from Danny and Tarhos

Fight, fight, fi- | Accepting

Referencing this for it aka the girls are fighting

Danny

Battle Intro: "Always need to keep you on your toes. Confidence is a slow and insidious killer, don't you know?" He slips his mask on blending into the shadows.

Victory: "You need to start watching your back love. You never know what a cornered animal might do." He presses his mask to his as he snaps a photo not even sure if he can even hear him through the blood loss, "See you at home love."

Half HP: "You're really taking this serious-" He pants catching he breath enough to dodge the next strike and bounce back into the fog where he's most comfortable.

Low HP: He pushes Robin off of him holding the new wound almost doubling over, "Fuck-" He gasps fumbling back into the shadows. If he could just try to find a weak spot...

Death: The way the spores clogged his airways and burned his skin was enough to make him want to end it right then, he didn't even resist when Robin stabbed him letting darkness cloud his vision as he was held gently. At least death was never permanent.

Assist: The survivor Robin's chasing is instantly marked showing the best spot to stab to end the chase quickly it was just a matter of catching up, "I hate the corn too don't worry sweetheart-"

Taunt: "I think you'll look cute screaming in a different way this time-"

Reacting to Taunt: He dramatically places a hand over his chest gasping mockingly, "Don't you know sequels are so out of fashion?!"

Flee: "Well would you look at the time I, uh... left my oven on-" He looks around before bolting.

Reacting to Flee: "Robin!" He watches him run, "Get back here we're not done!"

Tie: "You do that-" He pants ripping his mask off and rolling up his balaclava to try and just get some air into his lungs, this fucking sucks-

Perfect Victory: Danny plants his knife into his back pushing him down before he'd land the killing blow, "That's got to be embarrassing- see you at home."

Low HP Victory: He couldn't even breathe through the multiple layers of cloth and vinyl that covered his face and the spores definitely didn't help. He coughs trying to catch his breath, but ultimately passing out unable to even make a remark.

Finishing Move: The fog rolls in obscuring Robin's vision, each little belt looking more like a spider's leg making him question where the killer even was before he felt a blade enter the back of his neck and turn paralyzing him. Danny holds him there by his hair before he snaps a quick photo, "One for the memory book-"

Tarhos

Battle Intro: "It is better to settle differences by over powering an opponent, however-" He pulls his sword from the ground and immediately eerie green fog began pouring from his eyes, "By blade is much more interesting."

Victory: Tarhos expected this. The way his sword cleaved right through him, how weightless he felt pushing him off and onto his back for the final blow, "Weak."

Half HP: Tarhos grabbed Robin's shiv keeping him from stabbing through one of the crevices in his armor with a laugh. He rams his shoulder into him pushing him off with a lush, he absolutely was having the time of his life despite the blood.

Low HP: He goes to grab Robin's knife again clearly the blood loss getting to him as he misses and it lands in one of his joints causing him to grunt and pull away clearly wobbly on his feet, "Nice-"

Death: He was expecting to die as he was knocked over onto his back meeting the ground with a hard thud that made him wince. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. Despite Robin's question he didn't speak-

Assist: Three ghostly green paths pass him by each summoning a guard to help him patrol gens and the carnifex even downs the survivor Robin was chasing. Tarhos stands, "You looked like you were struggling."

Taunt: "You've always been spineless, Robin, yet you act like you're any different than the fleas of a manged hound."

Reacting to Taunt: He's so confused, "Do you mistake me for a woman?"

Flee: The sends the Carnifex out dressed like him to lead a path away. He was just happy that it worked and he could rest-

Reacting to Flee: "Are you running!?" Three ghostly trails start following him-

Tie: Tarhos holds his wound stabbing his sword into the ground knowing neither of them are in any position to carry on, "Truce?" he pants eventually just sitting down on the ground taking off his helmet.

Perfect Victory: Really- he shouldn't expected this the way his boot pressed against Robin's hand breaking it in the same motion he used to pin his knife to the ground, "Why would it choose someone like you who can't even hold their own?" He asks talking aloud to himself, "Oh well. Who am I to trust the decisions of a god." He crushes Robin's skull as he walk off.

Low HP Victory: He pulls his sword from Robin's form panting, what the fuck was this? The fine mist that made it so he couldn't even breathe, like his body wasn't his own. It didn't feel like a victory. Not while he wasn't sure if he was going to be fine to move on.

Finishing Move: The assassin stabs robin's back, the warden wraps his arms around his neck bending him further into it before the carnifex stabs his sword through his stomach and Tarhos chuckles skewering him through the gab that's left breaking his spine as he cuts a jagged hole through his body.

[storytelller-drabbles-english]

«Cursed». Nimue/Weeping Monk. Scars (#1)

I write in Russian and use a translator. If you find any errors, please let me know about it.

Soulmate!AU, in which a person feels the pain of a soulmate if he causes it to himself. In the same way, a person feels the pain of his soulmate if he himself causes him pain.

AU, in which Nimue does not have a scar on his back from a demonic bear.

___

"God…"

Nimue glanced at her back, which was covered with bleeding scars. The girl gritted her teeth, feeling a new blow and continued to count:

 "Thirteen... Fourteen… Fifteen…"

***

 "You are not worthy of a soul mate, my son," Father Carden said importantly, watching the Weeping Monk kneeling in front of the table with a whip in his hands.

 "I am not worthy of a soul mate," the man echoed after him, striking himself with the whip again.

 "Pain will cleanse you, my son," the father smiled, approaching the Monk. He watched him torture himself for a few moments, then nodded to the man.

 "Count to thirty."

***

When the Crying wounded the girl, he felt a sharp pain in his arm, in the same place where Nimue was wounded. The man did not attach any importance to this and wounded the girl in the other hand. She dropped the sword, and the Weeping Monk froze in surprise. His eyes widened.

It can't be...

He doesn't have a soul mate...

Nimue groped for the sword and clutched it with trembling hands. She looked like a cornered animal, however, that was how it was: they met by chance, in a clearing, when Nimue was hurrying to the shelter, and the Weeping One was on his way to meet Father Carden. Nimue's horse was frightened by the sword and reared up, throwing off its rider. She galloped away, and Nimue, falling to the ground, almost immediately jumped to her feet and drew her sword,notready for battle.

 "Will you kill me?" Holding the sword out in front of her like a shield, she asked.

The Weeping Monk shook his head, but Nimue did not believe him, because she personally saw how he killed the inhabitants of her village, hung them and burned them, how he killed her friends and those who helped her, how he killed innocent people. After all, they are not responsible for their origin! It's not their fault they're faeries!

 "I won't kill you, Nimue," her name didn't sound like a threat from his mouth, more like music.

She wanted to ask something, but did not have time: several people from the row of Red Paladins appeared in the clearing. They stopped when they saw the scene unfolding in front of them.

 "The Weeping Monk found the Nimue girl!" whispered loudly in the ranks of the Paladins.

Feeling that he was being watched, the Weeping Monk gritted his teeth, calculating the options for the development of events. If he takes the side of the Brothers now, he will doom the girl to certain death, and if he takes the side of Nimue, they will die together.

The decision was formed in a split second. The brothers didn't expect him to turn his sword against them, not against the fae. Nimue raised her sword and also joined the Weeping Monk, defending herself from the Paladins. It took about a minute and the corpses of some members of the Brotherhood of Red Paladins were already lying on the ground.

Nimue was fighting with a couple of Paladins and the Weeping Monk covered her with himself from the swords of his brothers, directing weapons against them, he managed to mortally wound one, and the second, before he was hit, managed to hook him with a sword.

Nimue looked around, but everything was quiet. The girl looked at the cut on her arm next to the wound that came from Crying and frowned. She was sure that she had not been caught in the heat of battle, but she was not sure about the Weeping Monk.

Nimue looked at the Weeping Monk with surprise, from shock, it seems, forgetting that he was her enemy in general, although he protected her from his brethren. She lowered her sword and came closer, so that she could see his face.

 "What's your name?" She narrowed her eyes.

 "Lancelot," he said, looking into her eyes.

 "Nimue," the girl echoed, looking at his face.

 "The Fairy Queen," he didn't ask, he claimed. Nimue instantly tensed, but nodded, no longer feeling the hostility that had previously emanated from him. Weird…

 "It is," she said shortly.

Nimue lowered her gaze lower.

 "You're hurt," she said. Indeed, there was a deep scarlet cut on his arm, which was not hidden by the wide sleeves of his cloak, from which blood was oozing.

Lancelot shrugged his shoulders, looking at the wound.

 "It always happens," he said quietly, not seeing anything wrong with it.

The girl silently rolled up her sleeve and showed a cut on her arm. Exactly the same and in the same place.

 "I've already figured it out," the Weeping Monk pointed to the wound on Nimue's other hand with a movement of his fingers, and then showed the same wound on his own hand.

They were both silent for a couple of minutes. Nimue didn't know how to ask him about the scars, and was it worth it? But Lancelot understood her confusion and, as soon as the girl opened her mouth, interrupted her:

"Scars are for sins before the Church."

"And what is considered a sin in this case?" Nimue asked frowningly.

"The Church considers it the main sin that you are a fairy," said the Weeping Monk.

"Is killing faeries also a sin? You kill your own kind."

 "Father Carden does not consider it a sin," the Weeping Monk blurted out faster than he had time to think.

 "So are you listening to the Church or Father Carden?"

"I..." he hesitated and fell silent. Nimue frowned.

 "Now you have nothing else to do in the brotherhood, right?"

The Weeping Monk nodded.

"Yes," he looked at her.

 "Do you want to join me?" Unexpectedly, even for herself, the young fairy suggested. She offered and immediately bit her tongue, scolding herself for her haste: Arthur, Gwen and Squirrel probably wouldn't be happy to see Crying in their ranks.

Lancelot studied her face for a moment in silence, noticing such a rapid change of emotions, and replied:

"If your friends don't mind, I would like to join you," he immediately corrected himself, "to you," the Weeping Monk bowed in front of the girl.

Nimue nodded.

 "Get up, Lancelot," when he stood up and looked at her, she continued, "I accept you into my..." she faltered, "squad. But I warn you, if you try to do something to my friends…"

Without letting the girl finish, the Weeping Monk closed his eyes and concentrated. He imagined that the pain was leaving the wounded arm and the wound was healing, that there was no trace of it.

Nimue gasped in amazement when she saw her wound heal right before her eyes. She continued to stare at her hand in amazement from all sides, but the cut was no longer there.

She looked up at the Weeping Monk.

 "I will not harm you or your friends again," Lancelot said firmly, "I give you my word."

It was difficult to believe, incredibly difficult, because throughout his life, the Weeping Monk was the one who terrified the fae, was the one who parents frightened their naughty children. But Nimue was kind and merciful.

"Okay," she nodded, looking at him carefully, "I believe you ".

[kolak-magiya]

@enoqian asked:

it was a pain in her side. annoying, at best. kehda hadn't even been aware of the injury upon her abdomen until at some point, she had touched the area and her hand was drawn away with blood. only when she had become aware of her own injuries did the pain make itself known, and with that -- annoyance. the sound of nearby footsteps brought her ears to prick, and she reacted no differently than a wild, cornered animal .. with teeth bared and prepared to strike, her own scythe drawn and her body swinging around. ( she would curse herself for the pain later. ) there is no absence of killing intent in her eyes even as the momentum is brought to a painful stop before the scythe might dare try and make contact with the other.

" ... " the warrior of light hisses under her breath. not with hatred, or even any disgust toward him, but annoyance. mostly from the pain she was suffering, and the embarrassment of being seen in such a state following battle. it was far different from her normal demeanor. something far more serious and cold. she lowers her scythe with a huff and turns away from him. " i almost thought you were some fool trying to get a cheap shot in. " / @ xadai. (:

Once upon a time, it might not have been far from the truth.

Xadai's reflexes were good. Her scythe stopped just short of colliding with the staff of his lance, poised to stop the weapon before it could hit him. For a tense moment, his eyes narrowed, until she lowered her weapon and hissed at him as she turned away.

As though she could hide the red splotch from his view. Still, he knew better than to order her to go see a healer. He knew that type of pride.

"..Someone else might get the chance if you don't back off and find a healer." He commented, moving to walk past her. Not that he'd let anyone get close enough, of course. "Not that I'd expect you to do the smart thing."

Xadai stopped to look at her over his shoulder, his eye cresting over the curve of his horn to stare at her. Nothing more was said as he watched her, waiting for her answer, for her action. Maybe she'd actually heed the advice, find a healer, live to see another day.

Either way, his own stance spoke his choice. He'd hold the line. With or without her.

[the-letter-horror-lover]

BORUTO ALTER: Last Shinobi by SongofVedas

Anime » Naruto Rated: T, English, Adventure & Fantasy, Naruto U., Sasuke U., Boruto U., Sarada U., Words: 112k+, Favs: 48, Follows: 49, Published: Dec 2, 2020 Updated: Jul 19

21Chapter 36: AN UNBEATABLE FOE! SHINKI'S STRIKE

BORUTO ALTER

Trees shivered, green leaves falling like rain as darkness cascaded around Eu-Mi. Under the light of the moon, blackened iron sand enveloped Boruto's teammate within a shambling fist.

"Eu-Mi!" Boruto shouted. Blue eyes darted to where Akad-

Disbelief burned through the Uzumaki as if someone had set off a flare on his sleeve.

He's.. gone?!

Boruto's eyes narrowed, senses alerting to almost-invisible movement darting towards him from above.

Boruto frowned, glancing over a lowered shoulder just as Eu-Mi landed into a slide.

The kunoichi's eyes were wide, crazed and nearly feral. However, Eu-Mi's expression itself was almost serene.

Her mouth relaxed, blood trailing from both corners of a lax smile. She was covered in cuts, though it seemed she was able to avoid any debilitating injuries from Shinki's jutsu.

I get it now. I was honestly wondering how Shikadai survived Shinki's jutsu. It covers a vast area.. but the cutting power itself isn't enough to cause immediate fatal injury..!

Boruto furrowed his brows.

Or.. Shinki is holding back. Either way…

Boruto looked downwards, shadows covering his blue silver eyes.

The smell of rotting blood still hung heavily in the air. Shinki's sand was all Boruto could hear- the sound of it constantly rushing against itself in shrieking, metallic tones.

Boruto opened his mouth- grimacing as the taste of Shinki's stench fled down Boruto's throat. He nearly retched, eyes watering as rasping words escaped his lips.

"We.. should run.." Boruto said, meeting Eu-Mi's eyes this time.

The kunoichi gave Boruto a grin.

"I agree. He probably won't won't let us escape, though."

Shinki's iron sand screamed as it reformed around a swirling, shedding nucleus of metal and chakra. Boruto could vaguely make out the shape of a body within the blackened core.

She's right.

Boruto escaped to a mind rushing in thought.

It's possible he's already gotten a few armbands. We might be the last ones he needs to win.

"What was it like when he attacked you?" Boruto asked.

Eu-Mi's eyes focused back on Shinki's storm.

"It was actually weaker than I expected. He made me bleed, sure. They're just scratches really. What's more.."

Eu-Mi pointed directly at the black core. Leaves continued to fall around them, while the ground shook with Shinki's labored march.

"He's inside there. My Dad.. told me a bit about the Kazekage's sand technique. This.. is different. It's heavier. To attack and even move, he has to wind up the metal, wind up himself- and force a constant current of chakra that he springs out when he wants to strike." Eu-Mi replied.

Boruto understood immediately.

"So it's inaccurate."

Eu-Mi flashed Boruto another grin.

"Exactly. It seems as if-"

Eu-Mi rolled her eyes in exasperation, focusing on Shinki as she continued.

"It's like he doesn't use his chakra fully until the very last moment- to mold the iron into offensive shape.. until at its closest to his target."

Eu-Mi's deep voice bore a handsome chuckle.

Almost like he's fishing, in a sense."

Boruto pulled a kunai from his belt.

Fishing..? That makes sense. Like he's casting the chakra to influence physical movement and momentum..

Boruto shook.

"Then we go on the offensive ourselves. We're both pretty fast. Our goal isn't to beat him, it's to-" Boruto paused as Eu-Mi flashed ahead in a blistering shockwave of air.

Suddenly, she was above Shinki, weaving to the left and right as tendrils of iron snaked upwards to catch her.

Boruto watched intently.

She's right! At a certain speed, his attacks are actually easy to evade!

Boruto leapt ahead, straight for Shinki's core. The smell.. it was disgusting..

I'm getting used to it, which almost feels worse.

Boruto's eyes snapped to Eu-Mi, the girl pivoting herself towards high trees above.

His remaining teammate thudded loudly against brown oak.

Boruto threw his kunai into the writhing black-

Shinki's bleeding iron instantly rose to catch the weapon.

Boruto nearly gasped as his kunai was sent hurtling back towards him. He craned his head to the right, kunai passing into closing fingers harmlessly.

The wood all around was awash with noise.

Boruto twirled the kunai on its loop with a lowered hand, before reposting it into the palm of Naruto's gifted brace.

Boruto exhaled heavily from flared nostrils.

It seems he's alone. Its possible he either betrayed his team, or they're lying in wait.

Boruto skipped backward, glancing up at Eu-Mi affixed to the tree meters above.

Boruto then held his arm brace. The ideation of his Father's jutsu brought images of Naruto into Boruto's mind.

Naruto was with the State Shinobi now.

Be careful Dad. Your jutsu...might get me out of this.

I'll have to thank you when we're both back.

Boruto wiped at his mouth, focusing a determined glare ahead.

If I could use it.. preferably after an attack Eu-Mi delivers.. we may be able to keep him at bay!

Boruto swallowed heavily. He crossed his fingers, summoning a shadow clone that erupted into existence beside him.

Boruto leapt into the air-

His clone pressed palms against the soles of his sandals.

A burst of infused winds escaped from the clone, hurtling Boruto to Eu-Mi as Shinki's tendrils rose to catch him. Shinki's iron swirled about Boruto's body..

However, he was able to twist himself middair, avoiding them with nimble precision. He clung to bark beside Eu-Mi, gasping heavily as movement and stench exhausted him.

"What's your strongest technique?" Boruto pressed.

Eu-Mi's eyes widened- though she answered readily all the same.

"My technique is not insomuch based on jutsu. It's mainly focused on summoning weapons." She said.

Boruto nodded.

As they spoke, Shinki made no effort to send his sand towards them-

However, he spread bloody iron ahead and behind them, leaving swirling pools of rotted ore ready to catch them by the legs if they attempted to flee beyond.

"I have a jutsu that might be able to break his defenses. What I need you to do is attack him at the crux of his core, from above." Boruto started.

Blue eyes glanced over to Eu-Mi's brown glare.

It.. needs to be a heavy weapon, one that even if he catches it with his iron..it'll force him to use chakra to keep it from cutting down on him." Boruto uttered hurriedly.

Eu-Mi's face flashed in thought for a moment, until an evil grin spread across a closed mouth.

"I have something in mind." She said.

Boruto motioned towards her bandolier of scrolls.

"Let me see the summoning contract for the weapon."

Eu-Mi hesitated.

"Hurry!" Boruto urged.

Eu-Mi sighed, unfurling the bandolier and pointing to a circled kanji that read Claymore.

Boruto formed a jutsu sign, then pressed his palm against the old calligraphy.

Then, he handed Eu-Mi one of his own kunai.

She took it without question, though she did give him another questioning glance.

"When you summon your weapon, throw this kunai somewhere behind him- anywhere. Just make sure it's close." Boruto spoke with a grimace.

This will use a lot of chakra.. but if we want to win, it's our only option.

Sarada's warning lurked between Boruto's ears.

You can only use it once.

Boruto smiled.

It's a new technique.. one based on that trick. This is the perfect application for it!

"Fine. You seem determined. By the way, where's our little Akadou?"

Boruto's smile evolved to a cynical, humored grin.

"He ran."

Eu-Mi tsk'd.

"Smart."

Eu-Mi stood, tall body sprouting vertically from their perch. The bandolier around her neck flowed about almost as if a tail, reminding Boruto of Himawari.

He closed his eyes.

I hope you're safe, Hima. You too Sarada.

Boruto's heart lurched at the image of Mitsuki.

Make it out of this unharmed so..I can apologize to you.

Boruto felt a surge of chakra from Eu-Mi-

Shinki's iron sand reacted instantly, suddenly shooting forward in spears from the pools Shinki placed around them, and from his core itself.

So he was waiting! He didn't want to use more chakra until we did!

Both Eu-Mi and Boruto reacted to the attack, each of them spinning from their tree as the sound of bark ripping apart joined the symphony of metal.

Eu-Mi spun in the air, falling down towards Shinki with impressive speed. Boruto himself landed a few meters in front of Shinki-

Boruto placed one foot ahead of his body..

Just as Eu-Mi landed upon Shinki's iron sand. Just as it began to climb towards her ankles, she kicked free, narrowly missing a wave of iron that rose from one of Shinki's pools behind them.

Boruto held out his palm- the brace he wore seemed to burn with the heat of his chakra.

A feedback.. loop..!

Within Boruto's open hand, a sphere of chakra crackled into life. It was.. black, visible to the naked eye. Boruto then realized that his technique was using the chakra leftover by Shinki's own jutsu.

He ignored this revelation, thrusting his arm upwards in the air just as Eu-Mi leaped between three trees, placing herself above Shinki once more.

"Manipulation Tool: Heavenly Steel Deception!" Eu-Mi bellowed as smoke rushed from her. She escaped from the mist, and in her hands a gigantic katana sliced down upon Shinki's iron sand, easily cutting through it until it sparked against his core.

Boruto strained as the hissing sound of his Rasengan became even louder than Shinki's jutsu. He felt the Rasengan grow heavier- heavier than it was last time, as it filled itself with the chakra of the elements around them.

He ran ahead- arm still raised high.

Eu-Mi cackled, letting go of her weapon as she kicked aside three ropes of iron that came for her.

"You're getting weaker, Shinki!" She boasted cruelly while brandishing Boruto's kunai, throwing it down at the ground behind Shinki-

As she herself fled backwards.

Eu-Mi's summoned sword.. was held in place.

Boruto gave a shadowed grin-

Shinki's sand struck the ground beside Boruto as he ran, dodging the Suna ninja's now desperate lashes.

The Rasengan was almost unbearable to carry- however, Boruto could direct it much better than before.

The Uzumaki formed a jutsu sign with a free hand.

This is going to take all the chakra I have.

Boruto pressed himself onwards.

Even so, I'll still be able to move..!

Boruto was only a few paces away from Shinki now- He could see Shinki's iron sand divert some of its force-

It went from holding Eu-Mi's weapon to swirling before Shinki's immediate front.

Shinki no doubt sensed the hell that was nearly upon him.

Go..!

Boruto's arm, despite the brace, felt as if it was about to be broken in two.

He pushed through the pain, ignoring the feeling of Shinki's iron sand as it began to envelop him- though Shinki made a point to keep away from Boruto's Rasengan.

Boruto's free hand bled as it moved against the sharp currents of iron caressing exposed skin.

The Uzumaki opened his mouth, vocalizing into a vengeful scream.

"Ninja Art: Rasengan Substitution!" He bellowed.

Both Boruto and his jutsu vanished. Eu-Mi's sword landed where Boruto once was..

Just as Boruto's Rasengan hailed crescendo upon the crown of Shinki's core. The sound made upon contact was deafening-

blinking light flashed throughout the forest.

Boruto erupted into physical space where Eu-Mi had thrown the kunai.

He formed both hands together, making a spear with right and left fingers-

"Lightning Style:.." Boruto muttered, blood crawling upwards into a taut mouth, some of it dripping past clenched teeth.

The black Rasengan devouring Shinki's metal dissipated in a belch of vanishing chakra, revealing the Suna genin's broken shell. Shinki himself was crouched within a small crater, iron sand buzzing about him as if electricity.

"Shimmering.. FANG!" Boruto finished, propelling forward as his lightning jutsu stabbed Shinki right at the boy's iron covered shoulder. Chakra roared all about them-

Lightning and sound screeched from Shinki, the weight of the last of Boruto's chakra deepening the crater several degrees further.

Shinki stumbled back. His entire body was still covered in shifting metal- though clumps of it began falling away.

Boruto's eyes narrowed as he gasped at the air greedily. A line of blood did fall from his mouth then, and as he stepped backwards from Shinki's smoking body, even the trees themselves shook in a quaking aftermath, some of the weaker ones uprooted due to the carnage.

Boruto-

His heart stopped.

Shinki's eyes dimmed.

Portions of iron face gradually fell away, revealing an empty husk that led Shinki's body.

Shinki's shedding fell to knees that crumbled apart.

"of course…" Eu-Mi hissed with a slight grunt, landing at Boruto's blind spot- somewhat behind him.

Boruto coughed, swallowing blood.

The Rasengan.. is it really doing this much damage to my body..?!

Boruto braced himself on both thighs, his posture sagging as lungs labored for breath.

It was then Boruto's eyes spotted something in the leaves.

The figure gracefully stalked across a long branch, white robes breaking free from a wavering green sea.

It was hooded, bearing a suna headband. A strange mask in the shape of a weeping monk glanced down at them.

The girl Hoki pointed out-!

Now however.. something terrifying caught Boruto.

He remembered the girl had two masks- two faces staring in separate directions.

What he saw now, though-

Was Shinki's head.

Even from this distance, it was undeniable.

Though Shinki's face was covered in strange bright blood, Boruto could see it was the genin.

He straightened.

Eu-Mi offered no words, no doubt just as shaken as he was.

What am I even looking at? Is that her-

True revulsion, worse than Shinki's reek, met Boruto then.

Is that this girl's jutsu?! A substitution that completely replaces its target.. then reforms it from her own body..?

That had to be it. The blood covering Shinki.. it wasn't normal. It had a rejuvenating spark of chakra that Boruto could discern even from here, overpowering the proctor's genjutsu.

She's going to be a beacon for everyone else though.

Boruto steadied his breath-

The girl moved.. then vanished in a scream of leaves.

Boruto hated himself for it, but he let out an exasperated sigh of relief.

His arm throbbed with burning pangs, however the brace seemed to help significantly. Post usage, the binding eased Boruto's rattling, shaking bones still along with Boruto's own natural chakra.

Still..

The jutsu held a heavy risk, this much was even more apparent.

Boruto wanted to rest.

No, we have to keep going for now. Find somewhere safe to recover.

Eu-Mi's leg swiped across Boruto's ankles.

He easily fell, gasping as Eu-Mi's fist descended into his stomach in the next second.

He coughed up a plume of blood, eyes widened to the sight of Eu-Mi straightening above him. She grinned, pulling Boruto's cloth band free as he rolled away in pain.

He spat, curling to his knees, holding himself upwards on a pointed chin and elbows quivering under his weight.

You..!

Boruto wanted to scream-

He couldn't. The pain was too much.

Eu-Mi's sudden attack would've been debilitating on its own. After the Rasengan however..

Boruto's vision faded, before finally...

He lost consciousness, confusion and betrayal throbbing behind the blackness of sight.

SORRY, MITSUKI'S TEAM WILL BE NEXT TIME! 7/27/2022

[mythgirlimagines]

DVHS Reread: Prologue

Welcome to the first part of this, haha. I just had a thought recently that I should go through and add random commentary on my fangan. Obviously, spoilers if you haven’t read DVHS before (linked above). Let me jump right in!

Waking up from a dream is disorienting when you don't even know you're sleeping. It's even more disorienting when the only thing I can see when I open my eyes is black, sort of swirling. There's almost no difference between my eyes being open or shut. I can't describe it in as many words, not in any language I know. It's negro, noir, schwarz. Black as far as I can see. Nothing more.

This first section - the whole part until X-X-X - I first read to my high school Writers’ Guild. They really liked it, so I didn’t really touch it since then!

Making a split-second decision, I bow in proper greeting. "We should at least introduce ourselves, right? I'm Ishikawa Camila, Super High-School Level Linguist."

NGL I used SHSL instead of Ultimate for the word count boost. I’m not sorry.

Abe doesn't let this distract him, and doesn't hesitate going around corners, staying in the middle of the hallway. I can't imagine this is just dumb luck, especially not once we find ourselves in front of the gym.

Yeah, he knows his way around because, as established in canon, the Warriors did indeed watch the broadcasts of the DR1 killing game; so he would have a good idea of how to get around the school.

I almost expect for us to be greeted with a full gym, but that's not the case. Rather, it's empty. 

I was also tempted to do a meet-everyone-in-different-places thing like SDR2 and V3, but introducing them in batches in one location was just easier for me in the end. I rewrote this part two or three times before it felt more right.

Abe shifts his eyes over to me briefly, as if telling me to do something to make ourselves more known, as the muscled guy puts a hand on her shoulder. "Chill out, Rikimaru. He's just excited." 

I didn’t fully recognize until now that there’s an interaction between this victim-killer pair so early on lol anyway RIP Matsumoto, wish I gave you more screentime.

I sigh, shifting my position. I want to try talking to him again, but he would probably ignore me, so I don't bother.

For now.

No promises for the future.

I found this part incredibly funny when I wrote it. I make myself laugh...

His expression becomes less frantic and more cocky, like a C-list celebrity who expects to be recognized and asked for autographs, though nobody does. He tugs on his purple jacket and slips his hands half into the pockets of his jeans. "Oh, you know me! My blog is only one of the most popular and well-known in Japan."

"I already told you. Nobody knows who you are." It takes a moment for me to realize that it was the girl who spoke. She pushes herself off of the wall and comes over to us. "His name is Aoyama Nozomu, Super High-School Level Blogger." Her eyes shift over to him, but he doesn't notice. He's too busy striking some odd kind of pose. Maybe he thinks he's in an anime or something. "Idiot."

Same can be said for these passages.

Abe looks after Aoyama with a somewhat puzzled look on his face. "Something wrong?" I ask, and am actually a bit surprised when he answers.

"Nothing. I didn't say so, but one of my older sisters is a fan of his." I notice his brief hesitation when he mentions his sister, but he stares hard at Aoyama's back, not acknowledging it. It's a wonder I got anything out of him at all. "Can't really see why."

This marks the first mention of Abe’s “sisters,” them being, of course, Toko and Komaru. This time it’s Komaru being referenced, since I feel like she would be more into blogs than Toko would.

Two of them, a long-haired girl in a t-shirt and denim shorts and a shorter boy, are already talking animatedly with each other, and move so they're sitting in front of the stage. 

This is funny to me only because I never draw Hamasaki with shorts? I always give her cutoff jeans instead.

She's poised, with almost as much muscle as Saito, though she's more elegant in a gauze-like skirt. 

On the other hand, I based Miyuki’s outfit directly off of an outfit I love wearing, just with different colors.

Ueda nods, momentarily distracted by Rikimaru and Maeda bickering even louder than they were earlier. Aoyama snickers. I bet he wishes he could be recording this for his blog. He seems like the type. 

Aoyama would love TikTok.

One of them, a girl with curled pigtails, sifts through some tiny scraps of paper or something that she's holding. 

If you look back at the silhouettes I made for the countdown to DVHS, Yoshida was drawn with two braids rather than two pigtails. I changed that sometime in the middle of chapter two, after I’d already made the silhouettes.

"Ishikawa, Ueda, all of you, nice to meet you. My name is Nakamura Ikuo, Super High-School-Level Charmer."

Nearby, I can practically feel Abe bristle. When I look back, his expression is mostly neutral, but his body language tells me quite the opposite.

I started dropping hints towards the end VERY early on, which I think adds to reread value lol

"Who pissed in his Cheerios?" Yoshida asks. 

One of my favorite lines XD

A chill runs down my spine as I look back towards the wings of the stage, where Abe was looking earlier. 

This was mostly me wondering, but shouldn’t there be a way to get to the back of the stage? Like most stages, even in gymnasiums, have a back entrance for performers and stuff. Where would that hallway/entrance even be on the map? Yknow?

"Welcome to Hope's Peak Academy," a familiar voice says. I know I've heard it before, but for some reason, my mind blanks on who it is. "This is your headmaster spe-"

I’m not sure how many of you remembered this by the end, but this is an introduction from Makoto, the actual headmaster, not Monokuma.

The sound cuts off, and is soon replaced with this awful music that makes Hamasaki visibly recoil and the rest of us shout in surprise. I go back to covering my ears with a groan. It's less music and more clashing sounds, like it was thrown together at the last minute. 

This is the music from the first V3 motive, in case you didn’t know.

Whoever this is now is an imposter, they have to be. 

Monokuma sus

"You heard me! Stabbing, bludgeoning, beating, poisoning, spearing, skewering, strangling, dismembering, drowning, asphyxiating, crushing, even all of the above! It's up to you. That is the only way you can leave." 

This is all the different ways (with none repeated) the victims died in canon

That’s really all I have for the commentary on the prologue. I hope you look forward to more installments of this, and as always, I’m open to any questions about dvhs!

[thehotelbellamuerte2022]

The Hotel Bella Muerte: Feeding Jesus

All I had wanted that night was sleep, and in the split moment between me closing the door and hearing that tapping on the door of my balcony, I thought about how much I wanted to leave this place. But some things in life have a way of sucking you in and not letting you go, this hotel became one of those things for me.

“Now what?” I said out loud turning towards the balcony.

Surely this night had done enough damage on my poor nerves, and it didn’t look like it was done yet. I was squinting now. Trying to see just who was at my balcony door. “Must be some visitor and nothing more.” I uttered.

I arose now from my spot on the bed and walked to the double doors. No one was there. I opened them, and in flew that raven from before. With a fluttering of wings and a loud “CAW. CAW. CAW.” The bird sped by me and landed on the woodwork just above my bedroom door. At this point I fully expected it to begin talking again, utter the word Nevermore or some shit as it had before. Only it didn’t, it simply eyed me and sat there.

“What do you want?” I asked, hoping it wouldn’t answer but knowing it would.

“Jesus.” Was its only reply. “ Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” That was the only thing it would say.

I fully expected at this point for the bird to break out into song, singing some old hymn, or perhaps it was trying to talk to me about our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ as a pamphlet fell from its beak, either way I didn’t have time for this. The clock now read 3:24am and I wasn’t about to lose another minute of sleep do a dumbass bird. I yelled at the bird which did nothing, then I tried taking off my cardigan and swinging at the bird, this only made the bird more upset and his Jesus’ only continued to get louder as it flew over to the perch and cage in the corner of the room

 Now I’m sure you’ve all heard that joke about the robber entering a home and hearing a bird utter the name Jesus right before they met their demise but if you hadn’t let me set the scene:

A burglar broke into a house one night. He shined his flashlight around, looking for valuables when a voice in the dark said, 'Jesus knows you're here.'

He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight off, and froze. When he heard nothing more, he shook his head and continued.

Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard 'Jesus is watching you.'

Startled, he shined his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot.

'Did you say that?' he hissed at the parrot.

'Yes', the parrot confessed, then squawked, 'I'm just trying to warn you that he's watching you.'

The burglar relaxed. 'Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?'

'Moses,' replied the bird.

'Moses?' the burglar laughed. 'What kind of people would name a bird Moses?'

'The kind of people who would name a Rottweiler Jesus.'

 This of course played in my head, and I became a little fearful. Was this bird warning me of what was to come, and was Jesus “watching me”? I didn’t intend to find out. I began swatting at the bird and chasing it around the room, armed with only exhausted wit, a cardigan sweater, and my disheveled self. It would land and I would strike, never hitting the bird but landing my blows to the side of the animal. To my dismay it did nothing to urge the bird from the room back to the great outdoors. I huffed, now winded and arms sore, and blew a strand of hair from my face as I tried one last time to usher the raven out of my room. It didn’t work; it merely landed where it had originally above my room’s door. I was out of options, tired, sore, and to the point of tears. It had probably been the worst first day I could have ever imagined at a new job and the first night was proving to be much of the same if not worse still. As I flopped down into one of the high backed chairs, staring at the raven, I begged it one last time to leave. It simple uttered one more “Jesus!” much louder than before. That’s when in the recesses of my memory I recalled Rule #127. Make sure to feed Jesus every night, or else.

 Was the bird warning me of Jesus’ arrival or was it introducing itself to me? I took a chance and asked the bird, “Are you Jesus?”

“Yes.” The bird croaked out in its high pitched voice.

“What the hell do you want from me Jesus?” I ventured, hoping to get a decent reply.

“I’m hungry. I’m huuuunngry.” It replied now speaking in the high pitched voice of a frail, old lady.

“Well, I guess I could find you something to eat, what do ravens eat anyways?” I asked.

“I want some coffee, and some breakfast.” It now spoke in a weirdly Irish accent.

“It’s too early for breakfast. It’s only 3:58am.” I groaned, “It’s still the middle of the night.”

“Well….” It replied while looking lost in thought,”…I’ll take a sandwich then.”

I snorted, “Birds don’t eat sandwiches, they eat worms and other insects and shit.”

“Do we? Are you sure about that?” the raven asked me in a deep baritone voice

“Yes. I’m quite sure,” How preposterous a thought, a bird eating a sandwich. It didn’t even have arms to hold it with. “Pick something else and for heaven’s sake use your own voice.” I said

“Oh. Well, how about a grilled cheese?” it replied

“That’s just another type of sandwich.” I stated now becoming even more agitated than before.

“Well….how about a ruben then?” It now asked but it added after seeing the annoyed look on my face, “A sub, or maybe a philly……how about a ham and swiss.”

“Those are all types of sandwiches you dumb bird!” I yelled as I balled up my sweater and threw it at the raven, completely missing my shot but getting my point across.

“Well what would you suggest?” It asked as it looked me in the eye.

We stared at each other for some time before I suggested something a little more easily edible for the avian creature. “How about some berries?”

“OH YES PLEASE!!” It gleefully shouted.

“Fine I’ll get your stupid berries then.” I said as I rose from my seat and ventured toward the door.

 As I slowly walked to the kitchen, I looked at every place something could jump out at me. At this point it wasn’t completely out of the question to wonder what could happen next, but thankfully nothing happened. I reached the kitchen and opened its door, no one was there but I halfheartedly expected there would be if I didn’t hurry. I quickly got to the fridge and got the berries out. They were the only things inside, just the mixed berry bag and nothing else. As my own stomach began to rumble I halfway wished there was something in the empty fridge for me. I was in the mood for my mother’s comfort food, meatloaf and mashed potatoes, mac and cheese with baked ham, or even roast beef and her buttery broccoli and cheese casserole. After I got the berries out I went to place the remainder of them back in the fridge. As I opened it I was surprised to find a single plate of food in the fridge, a plate of mashed potatoes, baked ham, and broccoli and cheese casserole. I didn’t even begin to wonder at this point, I just took the plate and warmed it in the microwave in front of me. Grabbing a fork from one of the drawers I grabbed the plate and berries and headed back to my room. Once there the bird began to caw once more, but it didn’t sound menacing this time around, just happy to see me and the food.

 I placed the berries in the little feeding trough next to the cage and the raven immediately flew over to investigate, cocking its head to the side a little to get a better look at what I was doing. After feeding Jesus, I sat once more in the chair positioned towards the cage in the room and watched as the bird munched happily on his berries, and I ate my own food. I was shocked by how delicious the food was; it tasted just like my mother’s home cooking. I made a mental note to investigate that fridge in the morning, but for now I was simply content with my plate of food, full belly, and the comfy chair.

 After we had both finished our meal Jesus looked back at me and said “Thanks for the meal.”

“You’re welcome.” I replied now no longer at odds with the bird. “So what exactly are you and how is it that you can talk?”

“I’m a spirit animal.” It responded. “I always have been. I try and take care of the new caretakers here, give them advice and whatnot.”

“A spirit animal? You mean like a spirit guide?” I asked looking for clarification.

“No, I am a totem. I help give the caretakers here great insight. Native American’s believed Ravens were able to transform into humans and back again. We are considered the wisest of birds.” It said between a mouthful of food.

“You couldn’t even distinguish between different types of sandwiches. How could I ever trust your insight into anything?” I asked

“Well…..just ask me anything.” The raven replied.

“What is wrong with this place? Why is it the way it is?” I wanted an answer to my question and I was going to wait all night to get it if I had to.

“That’s a hard question to answer, but I’ll try. You see there isn’t any one thing that makes this place the way it is, it is a culmination of various things. Long ago, when this place was built, the man who bought the land paid no heed to the tribes that had lived on it. They begged him to spare their sacred lands and not destroy the places that held spiritual significance to them. His response was to not only to destroy the land and cut down their forests, but he paved the foundations of this town on their ancient burial grounds. They were protected by deep and powerful curses that would affect any who disturbed the final resting place of their ancestors. He also killed any of them that stood in his way. The tribes that lived here put curses on their once beloved lands as well and on the man who took the land away from them. They were forced to leave their once beautiful homeland and in order to survive. So you see, this place is always and forever in a sort of limbo between life and death. It straddles the line between the two and in so doing, traps the souls of all who die here.”

“But I’m not dead or dying.” I finally said after a period spent in deep thought over the raven’s tale.

“Not yet, but all die here eventually. Once you become a part of the hotel and the town it resides in, you can never leave.” He answered.

I had a lot to think about, but it was late and I was so very tired. I decided it was time for me to go to sleep at last, and as if he had read my mind Jesus nodded to me with the “sup” nod as if to say goodnight and you’re not too bad after all, and he hop walked into the cage for the night. Tucking his head under his right wing the bird finally fell asleep. I set my now empty plate aside on the coffee table, looked back at the clock that now read 4:44pm and before I could even muster the energy to get up, fell asleep in the chair. My last thought of the night before drifting off was, what the heck did I have to look forward to tomorrow?

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Could you maybe write something with dark dark Steve who has a huge size kink and crying kink and loves to humiliate?

School Days

Note: sorry it took so long. been kinda down. also hope i did OK with humiliation.

Summary: Co-worker makes you feel uncomfortable.

Warning: 18+Only, short reader, size kink, crying kink, humiliation kink, non consent, forced fingering and cock warming i think

Dark Coach Steve x Short Teacher Reader

📚

You had always had a love of teaching. Growing up your friends would always groan when it was your turn to pick what to play, because you always chose to play school.

You knew exactly what you wanted to do when you got to college. You wanted to shape young minds. It was fascinating watching them grow and learn right before your very eyes.

Shelby elementary hired you two years after you received all of your certificates. Replacing their beloved Mrs.Pepper Potts after she moved out of town with her husband.

You taught first graders. You preferred teaching the lower grades. The higher grades were a bit difficult. Competing for attention when most of the students where dealing with raging hormones proved an exhausting endeavor. Your short stature became a reoccurring issue too. During your student teacher days you realized the taller they got the more they seemed to not take you seriously.

At least working with the lower grades you were less likely to be confused as a student. You had lost track of how many times you were stopped in the hall by a colleague. With the lower grades you towered over your class and commanded respect with little effort.

📚

You felt exhausted. Your first parent teacher meeting was over. It was endearing and encouraging that so many parents had so many concerns about the development of their little ones. But their critiques on your credentials didn't fail to strike a nerve, an issue new teachers faced all the time. You smiled through it as you normally did. Letting them have their back handed remarks as you answered and waited out the clock.

When it was all over you needed a drink. You cleared up the mess they left for you, a preview of what to expect from their spawn.

When everything was in its place you tackled the blackboard. Taking out your stool you stood on tip toes erasing. You had the bright idea of outlining your curriculum on the board for all the parents to view. It was hard getting it all on the massive board, but with your step stool you got as high as you could go.

"Hey! Whoa you know that's dangerous." A voice rushed to your side as your stool tilted.

"Are you OK little one?" he asked helping you down.

God he's tall. You barely came eye to eye with his chest. You tensed in his arms and when he realized his mistake he released you.

"Oh sorry" he rubbed the back of his head slightly embarrassed. "I'm Steve Rogers." He reached out a hand for you to shake. You took it and introduced yourself. His firm grip swallowed your hand, when he squeezed you held in the hurt from the pressure.

Steve's presence was intimidating despite the smile he wore. When he released your hand, you took as step back, but he stepped forward.

He is just a close talker. Don't over analyze.

"Sorry again with your clothes I just assumed you were..." He motioned at your clothing.

Taking inspiration from Ms Frizz, your favorite animated teacher, you always wore colorful puffy skirts that depicted various things related to education or fairy tails. The look kept the attention of the youngsters, but it certainly didn't look childish.

"It's OK, but I am afraid you are a bit late for the meeting."

Spinning away you move to the other side of your desk to give yourself more space. "If you wouldn't mind filling in your information, encase of emergencies or special needs. I know you probably filled it out for the front office, but I like to have my own copy." You explained as you handed him a pen and the piece of construction paper with the other parents info.

He took it and filled it out. "I just erased the curriculum, but I can email you a copy."

"Did you also used to teach at Camdien?" Steve inquired, bending over your desk as he wrote. While you waited you packed up your belongings.

"Um yes I was a student teacher there. Did you have a child there too?"

"I coached there actually. Well was." He rose and approached you. Slipping your purse straps on your shoulder, you tried to remember if you seen his face before. You didn't recognize it. As striking as he was you doubted you would forget it.

But the athletic department lived in a world separate from the teachers. Their multiple championships brought in funding that went to their brand new athletic facility. The highly coveted building allowed them to live above the peasant class of the faculty. You had even heard a nonsensical rumor that they even had a Starbucks and onsite masseuse.

When he handed it back you reached out, but Steve pulled the paper just out of reach. Hovering it over your head like a bully playing keep away. You huff and frown after two attempts. You were not a child and would not be treated as such. Pursing your lips you made a move to leave. You would just go through the admin office to get the information.

"Aw don't pout, but I must say you do look adorable when you do." He smiled down at you as he blocked your retreat. His wholesome grin did not match the darkness in his eyes. There was a disconnect somewhere. You felt like a mouse before a lion. Were the other teachers like this? You were so eager to get started working you did little research in the school that so swiftly hired you. "Here you go."

Snatching the paper away you say, "thank you." It sounded slightly annoyed, but you did your best to choke down the edge.

Unhooking the lip of your bag you placed it with the others as his shadow clouded you. Ignoring it you side step him.

"Yeah I remember. I used to see you at Camdien." Steve recalled, blocking you once more. You stopped just short of bumping into him as you closed your bag. "Cute little thing, roaming the halls." Steve informed you, stepping closer once more, making you take a step back. The alarm bells blared in your head at that comment.

"Boy wasn't I relieved I wasn't crossing the line with all the thoughts I had." He chuckled as your back hit the chalkboard. You had to strain your neck to look him in the eye this close.

The principal was making his rounds soon. He wouldn't try anything right?

"Mr. Rogers-"

"Coach" he interrupted. He didn't touch you but that fact gave you very little relief. You felt your nails dig into your palm as you gripped the thin strap of your bag. Your arm the only barrier between you two. "Just call me Coach."

"Rogers!" Your saving grace, Principal Barnes, exclaimed from the door. Steve's body blocked you from James. "There you are. Nice to see your getting to know your colleagues."

"Yeah, just sharing stories from Camdien" Steve stepped aside to greet Principal James. His hand landed on the top of your head, messing your hair as he patted you playfully like a dog. You swallowed the discomfort as he moved to talk to James. You gathered the rest of your things as they focused their attention on each other.

"Oh yeah I forgot you both came from their."

You took that opportunity to make your exit. Walking fast mumbling a 'goodnight,' you bolted toward the door. They replied back, but you ignored it, allowing their chatter to fade the further down the hall you got.

📚

The first week of school was hectic. Lost students, late students, little accidents here and there, it ran the gambit. But nothing worried you more than P.E. period.

Steve was listed as your classes gym teacher and made the drop-off a chore. It surprised you how increasingly inappropriate he was becoming. Always stretching out your name flirtatiously in front of the children causing them to taunt you with 'OOO's, and pepper you with questions about the nonexistent relationship until you departed.

They stayed in line as you approached the double doors that led to the gymnasium. He was there, dressed in his sweat pants, gym shirt and the whistle dangled from his lips.

As you ushered them inside he caught site of you as he wrangled another group and smirked. It was unnerving especially when your students egged him on by making kissy noises loudly when they noticed him too. On one occasion he sent a note with one of your students asking you out. You ignored it.

You should've reported him you know, but what would they say 'Oh he was just being friendly' or any number of things to justify his behavior. You'd been in enough situations to know without evidence that met their standards nothing would happen.

📚

In the teachers lounge Steve made his presence known. You stared at your custom coffee mug as it sat high on the edge of the third shelf. You had half a mind to take and break his, as it taunted you from the first. You were growing more and more tired of his antics. This wasn't the first time and you knew it wouldn't be the last.

Two arms planted themselves on either side of you as something rested on your head.

It was him you knew it. Who else would it be?

"Need some help little one?" He hummed.

"God damn it Steve get off me" you barked You elbowed him, but the mountain of a man didn't budge.

"No need to be nasty."

You felt him push you into the counter, crushing you against it as he reached for your cup on the high shelf.

"Here you go" he said placing it daintily in front of you.

Calm down don't blow your lid he is doing this to fuck with you.

"Shouldn't you be watching my class?" You asked as you waited for him to move out of your way.

"Student teacher got me covered. You remember what that's like? Give them the work while we teachers kick back and relax."

He backed away allowing you to get the coffee, but stayed glued to your side. You ignored him, pulling out your phone and flopped on the couch, waiting for gym time to end.

Steve of course sat next to you crowding you into the corner. He boldly placed a hand on your thigh, you brushed it off, cursing at him to 'go away'. If you got up he would only follow so you crossed your legs and leaned into the arm of the couch. Don't let him get to you.

Steve stretched out his arm on the back of the couch. Even sitting next to you he towered over you. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you in snugly. Your head resting against his tone chest. "God your so adorable."

"Steve!" you almost shriek at him as his other hand slyly crept under your skirt. "Jesus Christ what the hell is wrong with you."

You try to stand suddenly, but get jerked back down. Landing in the same awkward situation as before.

"Fuck you let me go" you hissed at him. He only chuckled as you tried to stop his hand from advancing up your skirt again. You became panicked the further he got.

Clamping your thighs tightly together as he wedged between your crossed legs. Your eyes shifted to the door before you, the couch sat across from the only entrance. If anyone came in they surely would be under the wrong assumptions.

His arm refused to budge as you attempted to pry him away. Steve was nothing but muscle, struggling was getting you no where, each shift pressed him hard against your sensitive area.

📚

"You know I've been nothing, but nice to you" Steve sounded disappointed.

"Stop please" you sounded panicked and desperate. Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to fight back an ache that taunted you as he teased.

"But you always give me attitude." He stated casually.

You slapped him. The sound loud in the empty room. Your eyes blurred with tears of frustration. Your hit did nothing, only leaving his cheek red, but from the smile on his face he liked it.

"And violent too. Hope you don't act that way around your class" he tsked while poking hard at the growing wet spot. You felt your spine curve and breath become heavier, your toes curled in your shoes as he increased his friction.

"Oh look at you. You like that don't you" he teased rubbing circles after noticing the tension in your legs relax. You cocked back to slap him again, but stopped when you felt his other hand at the back of your neck. It squeezed softly, but it was a warning nonetheless. You felt defeated. Not only was Steve bigger than you, he was stronger. Tears of frustration finally fell as you lowered your hand and let him do as he pleased.

"God your even cuter when you cry." He preened. "Tell you what. Since we don't have that much time....Kiss me and I will stop." You bristled as you felt him peel your panties to the side.

He didn't wait for your reply. Steve crashed his lips on to yours without warning. You flinched expecting pain, but it was soft. It was so tender that with anyone else they would given and close their eyes, accept it, but you couldn't.

"Stop..Steve.. Please" You panted over his lips, pushing at his chest as his fingers pushed into you. He didn't stop, the kiss only embolden him to go further. You whimpered and moaned as he took from you.

"Give me your panties" he asked pulling away from you, but his fingers still curled inside. "You promised you'd stop" you remind him, wiping away tears.

He wasn't going to relent, you could tell by the determination in his eyes. You felt exposed and embarrassed. Anyone could walk in at any moment and he knew it. He would probably get a slap on the wrist while you would need to find employment else where to escape the shame.

"I promise this time" he said lowly. "No tricks."

Swallowing your pride you lifted in your seat, he moved just enough to let the fabric pass. Rolling them down your knees quickly you hand them over. His hands slipped from you as you pass it. He held them up to the light and examined the wetness he created. Wiping away tears, you stood and bolted toward the door, but stopped when Steve whistled loudly.

"I think you forgot something."

You turned to find him pointing at your discarded mug.

"If you leave it, I leave this in it", he waved your shame in the air.

"Don't forget to wash it....don't want it to leave a stain" he ordered from the couch. You walked back on edge. Snatching the mug from the other side of the table. You rushed to the sink and rinsed your cup. More tears fell as you felt the wetness between your legs. The mirror mounted above the sink allowed you to examine yourself. Your mascara bled a bit and lipstick smeared, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with a dab of a napkin.

You swore to never step foot in the lounge ever again. If you needed to eat you would do it in your car or at your desk. This was supposed to be a magical time for you, but with Steve it had turned into a nightmare.

You sniffed as you blinked away the tears, forcing yourself to stop crying. Gym time was almost over and you needed to pull yourself together and collect your class.

"You know how often I wonder about you" Steve said rising from the couch, you watched him carefully from the mirror. You fumbled your mug, the water splashing back at you.

"Steve you promised" you said meekly, utterly defeated. He stared at you through the mirror, you felt his eyes watch your discomfort as you picked up the cup.

"What would the parents think if they knew their kids teacher walks around the class with no panties on" he tutted. You hung your head low and noticed your panties balled up in his hand as he rested it on the counter.

"I also wonder" He said pressing you into the sink. You felt his resolve through his sweat pants. "Do you fit?"

Fit?

Then it became clear. You felt his cock against your backside. You tried frantically to flea, but Steve caught you by the neck.

"I'm willing to bet you can't even fit half of me inside" he whispered in your ear as he bent you over the sink, crushing. "If I'm wrong I will let you go." Your eyes rounded as he hauled up your skirt. You whimpered as the cool air of the staff room tickled your exposed rear.

Steve was really going to fuck you in the staff room. These walls were paper thin and he knew it. Your head swirled in panic as you pleaded with him to stop. He only chuckled and shimmied down his sweat pants as you swatted back at him.

He angled and aligned himself as you sobbed. The tip slipped through your wet thighs, finding the target of its need.

You choked down a guttural moan as he breathed out 'good girl'. He watched your face as every inch stretched through your insides.

"Its is too much" you gasped out, trembling from the pressure, dancing on your tip toes as you adjusted around him.

"Its all inside" he praised the accomplishment. Forcing you to look at the mirror. "You fit me so good...see."

The mirror reflected your assault to your horror. "All cute holding me inside, taking everything I got" he said while stretching you.

Shooting pains radiated from your core as sharp breaths escaped you.

"Look at you" he taunted "coming apart just for me.... "

You heard the door to the room open and close quickly as you panted wildly. Steve didn't pull out, unabashed, letting whomever take in his pale ass as he continued to stuff you.

You didn't know who saw you, you only hoped his massive body hid you and your shame.

📚

[bump1nthen1ght]

Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would 😊

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your  fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

--------------

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add  cat food to your grocery list.

--------------

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check  on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed  a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

--------------

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.  

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it’s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

--------------

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat.  Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.